Windows to the Soul
by auntiecat-sks21
Summary: A plot to get revenge on Harry threatens to destroy his true love - Hermione. HP/HG, HP/OC, takes place btwn end of 7th yr and 19 yrs later, pairings end accordingly. Rated for adult content and language. Complete but still a WIP, I'm adding and revising.
1. Meeting in the Pub

Chapter 1: Meeting in the Pub

Alone at a small table for two in a secluded, dimly lit corner of the Leaky Cauldron sat a man reading the evening edition of the _Daily Prophet_. He wore a black, button down linen shirt with the first two buttons undone, a worn tan suede jacket and a pair of khaki pants that were frayed at the bottom.

The bartender of the pub placed his fifth glass of firewhiskey down next to him as the man folded up the paper, placed it on the table in front of him and pulled out an older newspaper clipping from an outside pocket of his jacket. Along with the clipping, another old piece of parchment fell out, but the man quickly picked it up, replaced it and turned his attention back to the clipping. The edges around the article were beginning to fade with age, but the date on the corner still clearly read 5 June 1998 and the headline stated:

"Reign of Terror Ends: Lord Voldemort Finally Vanquished"

Paying for the drink and scanning the article for what seemed like the hundredth time, he quickly found what he was looking for and halfway down the article he read:

"the destruction of Hogwarts castle. While repairs of the almost demolished school are nearing completion, families of those lost during the Battle of Hogwarts and the weeks leading up to it are finding it difficult to repair their broken hearts.

On the brighter side of things, citizens of the Magical Community once again find it impossible to hide their celebration from ignorant Muggles. This time, unlike when we first believed him to be dead, speculation into whether or not "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" is truly a thing of the past is nonexistent. Everyone who witnessed the historic final battle is in complete agreement that Lord Voldemort is never again to return. Details of the events leading up to the death of Lord Voldemort remain a mystery, however, as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived (Again), continues to refuse an audience with reporters. The only two others who could possibly shed some light on Harry Potter's quest the last few months, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, have also eluded reporters.

Meanwhile, newly appointed Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, continues to assure us that he and his administration are doubling efforts to track down and apprehend all remaining Death Eaters. If you have any information regarding the location of any of the following listed below, please notify Ministry officials at once.

Augustus Rookwood

Lucius Malfoy

Draco Malfoy

Annika Frost

Lavinia Mallory"

After he finished reading, the man folded the article up and tucked it back into his jacket pocket. Taking a long drink from his firewhiskey, he pushed a tuft of unkempt jet-black hair out of his face, revealing a scar on his forehead shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Harry Potter leaned back in his chair as he took another sip. He still looked as skinny as ever, but now his face had a gaunt, sickly look to it that his five o'clock shadow failed to hide. This combined with malnutrition, a lifetime of stress, and his drinking made him appear much older than his 22 years.

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his green eyes, which were bloodshot from lack of sleep. Grinning, he closed his eyes. He remembered how willing he had been to sit an interview with ex-reporter Rita Skeeter concerning the events when Lord Voldemort had first reappeared. Since Voldemort's death, however, he had found it oddly gratifying to refuse comments to the Daily Prophet reporters and to keep the Magical Community in the dark about what he had been through for the past six years.

_Six years_, he thought. _Was it really that long ago?_

Thinking back, it certainly was about six years since he'd first learned of Voldemort's seven Horcruxes and had set off to destroy them, not realizing at the time that he himself was one of them.

Snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of his name, Harry looked up. Without his glasses, though, all he could make out was a blurred figure standing before him. He replaced them, but still could not believe his eyes. Hermione Granger stood in front of him, smiling. She was wearing a long, elegant black cloak below which only a pair of black high heel shoes could be seen. Her brown hair wasn't nearly as bushy as it used to be and was tied up into a complicated bun with loose curls falling about her face and upon her shoulders. And Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought he could see a hint of makeup as well; she never used to wear makeup.

Harry merely sat and stared at her for a moment, taken aback at how beautiful she had become since the last time he had seen her and wishing he had made more of an effort to look presentable.

"Harry, are you okay?" she asked when he didn't say anything.

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine," he said, quickly getting to his feet. "How are you, Hermione? It's been so long. Please, sit down."

Harry rounded the small table and pulled out the chair opposite his, noticing as he passed her an enticing scent of lavender that was undoubtedly her perfume. Hermione removed her cloak and draped it over the back of her chair before sitting down. Underneath she wore a deep red halter-top dress with a band of black lace just below the breast line, from there down it fit and complimented her figure quite well. The bottom of the dress was trimmed with the same black lace and reached down a little past her knees, showing off what, in Harry's opinion, was a spectacular pair of legs. Harry then circled back around the table to take his seat, not able to keep his eyes off her.

"It has been a long time, Harry. Over four years now since I last saw you." She looked him over, but said nothing of his disheveled appearance. "I'm glad you kept in touch. How are things going with the Defense Against the Dark Arts applications? Did you get the post?" she asked hopefully, but her expression soon changed, as did his.

"No, McGonagall turned me down again. She said she would be _thrilled _to have me on her teaching staff," he said with an expression of mock eagerness, "but doesn't think I have the right _personality _for teaching, whatever that means."

"Well, Harry, you know, you have always had somewhat of a temper." As usual, Harry knew she had a point, but he wasn't about to let her know that.

"So, where are you staying now? Here in London?"

"Yes, but on the other side of the city, near the Ministry. I walk there every morning to go to work. All the other Aurors think I'm crazy, that I'm most vulnerable traveling on foot, but I can defend myself. I have just about completed my training," she added excitedly.

"Auror training? That sounds great. Good for you, Hermione." Harry tried to sound enthusiastic for her but couldn't keep the slight bitterness out of his voice; that was the occupation he'd looked into for himself but was also unable to achieve, considering he never finished school. To him it was beginning to form a pattern, first he was denied an Auror job because he wasn't qualified enough and now he was turned down for a teaching job because he had too much of a temper at times.

Almost as if she had read his mind, Hermione said, "You know you could have become an Auror too if you had returned and finished out your seventh year with me."

"Nah, it would have been too awkward considering I killed Voldemort in the Great Hall. Not to mention I demolished half the school. I don't think they would have been very keen to let me return."

"That wasn't your fault! It's not like you asked for a war to be waged at Hogwarts."

"Voldemort was after me, Hermione, and I was at Hogwarts. Everything that happened there that night was because of me." He continued in a voice barely audible. "All the death and destruction could easily have been avoided if only I had given myself up sooner…" He trailed away, lost in thought.

They just sat there for a minute or so, Hermione trying desperately to catch his eye so that she might understand what inner turmoil he may still be under, even with Voldemort gone. But Harry kept looking around, at the floor, anywhere but at her so that he wouldn't have to see the pitying look in her eyes. He knew she had seen the firewhiskey glass and knew she had already figured out that he had somewhat of a drinking problem, but never once had he felt guilty about it. Until now.

He stood up, took hold of his half-empty glass and asked Hermione if she wanted anything to drink. She answered, "Just coffee, please," and he walked over to the bar. When he returned, instead of holding another glass of amber liquid as she had been expecting, he had two cups of hot coffee, one of which he placed in front of her as he took his seat.

Again, they sat in silence, drinking their coffee. Harry, who was never someone who could sit still for too long, placed his hand on the table in front of him and started absentmindedly drumming his fingers. Finally, no longer able to stand the quiet and being shut out of his head, Hermione reached out her own hand and gently took his. Softly and reassuringly she whispered, "Harry, talk to me."

He looked up and she then saw the despair lurking deep behind his eyes as if it had been locked there for ages. Years of pent up grief finally exploded out of him as if a dam had just been released as he dissolved into anguished tears.

Was this what he'd been waiting for? Was this really the only thing he had needed all those years to help him through? A chance to talk with Hermione? She and Ron had been there for him before, but he'd lived with Ron now for three years, why couldn't he have talked to him about it? Harry now realized it was because Ron and Hermione were two completely different people. Ron may have tried to understand, but empathy was never one of his strong points. He felt more comfortable around Hermione now and he wasn't ashamed to cry in front of her, unlike with Ron.

Hermione didn't say anything for a few minutes but moved her chair around closer to Harry and simply sat there trying her best to comfort him, though she still had no idea what was weighing on his mind. It was then that she saw the old piece of parchment; it had slipped out of his pocket and was lying on the floor by his chair. She picked it up and began reading:

_**Happiness is not real, it does not exist, it is only an illusion.**_

_**Battles leave cuts, but those wounds will heal**_

_**Leaving behind scars that remain constant reminders.**_

_**When a person dies, their body decays;**_

_**When a person isolates themselves from the rest of the world;**_

_**When a war is waged within ones own mind and heart,**_

_**It is an inner battle that destroys a person from the inside out.**_

_**Medicine cannot heal.**_

_**Magic will not help.**_

_**Nothing can be done.**_

_**All is lost.**_

She folded it back up and just sat there, bewildered. _What is this all about? Why has he been isolating himself? _she thought.

After a few more minutes, when Hermione thought he had calmed down enough to speak, she asked, in a slightly desperate voice, "Harry, what's wrong. I can't help you unless you tell me what it is I'm helping you with."

He tried to talk, but all that Hermione could make out were indiscernible words like "Dead," and "My fault."

"Harry, who's dead? What's your fault?" All that came to mind were Ron's parents, they had died battling the remaining Death Eaters two years earlier, but she couldn't see how he thought that was because of him.

Then a thought hit her. It seemed so obvious. Why hadn't she thought of it sooner? _But it happened so long ago_, she thought, _and it didn't seem to affect him this much then._

"Harry," she began slowly, trying to choose her words carefully, "it's not . . . You couldn't possibly mean . . ." She broke off, understanding dawning at last.

"Fred . . . Lupin . . . Tonks . . . My fault." He gasped through renewed sobs. "All my fault. If only I had given myself up to Voldemort sooner."

"Oh. No, Harry!" She took hold of his shoulders and dragged him into a tight hug, but he did not object. The truth was finally out in the open. All that was needed now was time for all wounds to heal. Friends could do more than medicine and magic.

"All is not lost," Hermione whispered.

(end of chapter 1)


	2. Recalled Memories

Chapter 2: Recalled Memories

Chapter 2: Recalled Memories

(Background information)

It was during his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that Harry first learned of Lord Voldemort's seven Horcruxes: five objects that were of personal value to Voldemort - Slytherin's cup and locket, Ravenclaw's tiara, Hufflepuff's cup, and his snake Nagini. There was also a diary, which was to be used to reopen the Chamber of Secrets. Each of these Horcruxes contained a piece of Voldemort's very soul, which was ripped in half every time he murdered then placed into the items he chose in order to preserve his life.

They were each destroyed by Harry (except for Nagini - that was Neville Longbottom) over the course of two years in order for him to kill Voldemort himself, for if even one piece of his soul remained, it was inevitable that he would again return.

In pursuit of Ravenclaw's tiara, Harry and his friends, Ron and Hermione, found themselves once again at Hogwarts since they'd dropped out after their sixth year. It was here that the Dark Lord and his followers (known as Death Eaters) caught up with them again for the final battle. The entire school rose to the challenge of defending Harry and, in the resulting conflict, three of their close friends were killed - Ron's brother Fred Weasley, and a married couple Remus and Nymphadora (aka Tonks) Lupin.

The real shock, however, came when Harry realized he was the last Horcrux and in order to kill Voldemort, he would have to die.

When Voldemort invaded Godric's Hollow 21 years previously, his intention was to murder the one-year-old Harry to keep a prophecy from becoming reality, and to create his final Horcrux. However, in killing James and Lily Potter first - for they were determined to protect their only son - Voldemort had already damaged his soul when he finally got to the boy. Protected by his parent's love and sacrifice, the Dark Lord's deadly curse rebounded off Harry and struck its maker. Under the strain, Voldemort's soul was torn completely in two and while the half that remained in his own body was killed, the other half merged into Harry's body, causing his infamous scar and a constant connection between him and his would-be murderer.

Reduced to something barely alive - for he was still alive, he still had his other soul pieces - Voldemort fled and hid in the forests of Albania until, with the help of a servant, he was able to regain his full power and body and return.

Harry, however, went on to live a somewhat normal life with nothing but a few scattered memories of his parents and a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead - the result of Voldemort's backfiring curse - as links to his past.

(Story)

The pub was beginning to empty, but Harry and Hermione remained at their table. It had taken Hermione a couple of difficult hours - and quite a few cups of coffee to sober him up - to calm Harry down, and for him to talk through his pain.

Afterward, Harry felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his chest and he was able to talk and laugh as he once had while at school. He removed his jacket and soon they were both laughing as they recalled old memories.

"Do you remember when you slapped Draco Malfoy? It was great! I just wish I had been the one to do it. And then when Professor Moody turned him into a ferret?" Harry howled with laughter as the memory of the bouncing ferret flashed across his mind's eye.

"He deserved it!" Hermione finished her water then added thoughtfully, "I wonder what that rat is up to these days, think he's still his old self?"

"Of course! People like that never change. His father's just the same. I would love to be there when the Ministry finally catches up with them and they get thrown in Azkaban."

Hermione smiled maliciously. She then stood up and handed her glass to the bartender, thanked him and returned to the table. Harry watched her as she sat back down and adjusted the hem of her dress.

"You look fetching tonight, Hermione." She looked up, he was still watching her and she smiled as their eyes met. "You always look wonderful. I've always thought so. I just never had the chance to tell you." Hermione smiled again and Harry looked away, slightly embarrassed, but went on, "I was so jealous of Ron when you two got together. I knew it was bound to happen . I hate to admit it, but I was glad when you broke up with him.

"You wouldn't believe how much he moaned and complained about it for weeks. (_Yeah, I would_, she thought, rolling her eyes slightly. _He never stops writing to me_.) He always kept repeating how Lavender had just been dumped by her boyfriend and he was just talking to her as friends. Over and over he said this and I tried to sound consoling to him, but I couldn't keep from inwardly smiling," He looked up at her again and was surprised to see her beaming.

"Harry. I had no idea you felt like this." She reached over and placed her hand on his bare arm. Instantly, Harry felt a jolt in the region of his midriff.

"Yeah, well. I never really thought you were interested in me, that's why I never said anything before now."

Hermione blushed at these words and turned away. "The truth is," she said, "I've fancied you since the third year but you'd never shown a liking in me like Ron had. So I just assumed you weren't attracted to me."

"How could a man not be attracted to a woman as gorgeous and intelligent as you?"

Harry couldn't stop himself as he leaned forward and kissed her. It was such a spur of the moment thing that it surprised him as much as her.

Hermione giggled.

"What?" he said, confused by her reaction.

"I've never kissed anyone with whiskers before." She giggled again. "They tickle." She leaned forward and kissed him back, not wanting the exhilaration to end.

The original discouraging feelings Harry had gotten when she had pulled away quickly dissolved and his heart soared at her acceptance of him. When they finally broke apart again, neither could shift their gaze from the other's. For too long had they desired each other and neither realized it of the other.

They sat in silence for a moment. The pub was empty now and Hermione noticed two men, both wearing black traveling cloaks, enter through the back doorway near the stairs. She recognized their white blond hair and was shocked to see them out in public, but before she could comment, Harry said something that drove the arrival of Lucius and Draco Malfoy out of her mind.

"Have you ever, you know … messed around before? Had sex?"

Hermione's cheeks turned pink. "Once," she answered hesitantly. "With Viktor."

"Viktor?" Harry repeated, trying to think of any Viktors he may know. "Krum?!" She nodded, her cheeks reddening. "When?"

"Right after I found Ron with Lavender. Harry, you must understand," she began at the look of shocked disbelief on his face, "Ron did try to explain that he had done nothing with Lavender, but I would only believe what I saw at the time. I was so angry, so I wrote to Viktor and vented a little. He suggested I visit him to get Ron off my mind and I did. We chatted for a bit then he offered me a drink. I don't know what it was but soon stuff began to happen and I enjoyed it. The next thing I knew, I was waking up the following morning in his bed." She finished with a shrug, as if it was no big deal.

By now, Harry's expression had turned to intrigue and excitement. Seeing this, she added, as if commenting on the weather, "He wasn't very good though. Not that I have any experience to compare it to. Ron would have been no better. Oh, Harry!" Everything she said seemed to sound worse than before and by the time she'd stopped trying to explain herself, her whole face was as red as her dress and Harry was laughing at the look of horror on her face at what she'd just said.

"Can he pronounce your name right, yet? Or does he still call you," he took on the tone of voice as if talking to a little baby, "Herm-own-ninny?"

She just shook her head and smirked.

After a minute, for it took Harry that long to pluck up the courage, he asked, "Do you reckon I'd be any better?"

At first, the question came as a complete shock, then Hermione laughed. "Probably."

He raised his eyebrows playfully, "Care to find out? I've got a room upstairs."

She eyed him suspiciously as she grabbed her cloak and he his jacket and they made their way across the pub to the stairs, unaware that they were being watched.

Lucius Malfoy lurked in the shadows. "Well, well, well," he smirked, "Potter and Granger. How interesting."

Just as they reached the stairs, Draco re-entered from the back door. "Fancy the Mudblood now, do you, Potter? Not surprising, filth always attracts filth."

They both stopped, Harry had his back to Malfoy but kept his fists clenched. Hermione, however, turned around and spoke directly to Draco, "You're just jealous because you can't have me." Harry turned to look at her in astonishment. She just smiled and they continued up to the room, leaving Draco standing at the foot of the stairs shocked and fuming.

Draco stomped back to his father. "Did you see that? Granger with Potter? What could she possibly see in him, why's he so special? Because of his stupid scar? Because he's the entire Wizarding world's hero for killing the Dark Lord? I have more class than Potter will ever have; I'm smarter, better looking. Why can't she see that?"

"Draco, you speak as though you want her for yourself," Lucius said softly, surveying his son.

He thought about this for a moment. "I do," he said quietly, more to himself.

"Don't worry, you shall have what you desire, and so much more. Be patient! Come, there are preparations to be made." And with a swish of their cloaks, they were gone.

(end of chapter 2)


	3. Love Above the Pub

Chapter 3: Love Above the Pub

Excitement was thick in the air as Harry led Hermione into the room. Closing the door behind him, he kissed her again, playfulness showing on his face making him appear his age, for once, if not younger. As they stood staring into each other's eyes, both could see years of hidden love and longing shining through.

With a casual flick of his wrist, half a dozen candles placed meticulously around the room suddenly flared into light.

"You have been busy, Harry Potter, planning all of this." Harry just shrugged.

Without a word, for each now realized that none needed said, Harry reached up and untied the straps of Hermione's dress. The touch of his hands behind her neck sent a shiver of delight down her spine and Harry, who noticed his affect on her, smiled.

Once the straps were loose, Harry's grin became wider as he bent down and pulled the dress up over her head. Underneath, she wore nothing but a tiny, lacy thong that scarcely hid the elegant curves of her hips and buttocks, and the smooth crevice between her thighs.

It took every ounce of restraint he had not to scoop her up and have her then as he stood gazing at her; from head to foot she was beautiful, perfect, more so than he had ever imagined. As his eyes swept over her, they took in her sparkling cinnamon eyes, lush lips and flushed cheeks; her firm breasts down to her small waist and curving hips.

Her thong was quite transparent and as Harry's gaze came to rest on her most sensitive area, his fingers twitched, so longing were they to feel her, tease her. But he knew the timing was not quite right. Even though this was completely new to him, Harry knew he should not rush into things; the longer the desire simmers, the more pleasurable the outcome for both of them.

Hermione reached down herself and removed her thong. Straightening up, she stood there in the faint candlelight, completely exposed, seeking Harry's approval. This was the same Harry Potter that she'd known since age 11 and even though, back then, she would never have thought their friendship would escalate to this, she felt utterly shameless standing nude before him.

With one swift movement, Harry approached her and gripped her lovely, round buttocks with both hands while simultaneously pressing his lips to hers. Hermione knew, from the instant he had touched her, that this was going to be a night she would never forget.

Even while his clothing remained on him, she could still feel him pressing against her. So when he finally released her, she pulled him over and pushed him onto the bed. Kneeling next to him, she slowly undid his remaining buttons until his bare chest was exposed. She leaned over and started kissing his stomach, tickling the black hairs above his belt, and then worked her way up to his chest and neck until she reached his mouth.

The feel of her hot breath excited him beyond anything he had ever felt and by the time their lips met, he was panting with anticipation.

"You certainly do seem to know what you are doing. Viktor taught you well, I see."

"Who said Viktor taught me anything? I've done my research." They both smiled.

Harry's eyes began to wander and they stopped at her breasts, which were right in front of his face now, with the way she had been bending over, kissing him. Not able to control himself any longer he reached up and took one of them in his hands. He'd never even felt one before. Slowly he ran his fingers over them in circles ending with her now hardened nipples. Hermione moaned as he took one in his mouth, teased it with his tongue then moved on to the other before letting go.

"Lovely. All of you is simply delightful." He tore his eyes from her chest and stared back into her eyes. Reaching up, he ran his hand across her face and up into her silky hair.

As he began to free her hair from the bun, Hermione feared her arms might buckle as all the muscles in them seemed to relax as one. Once it was loose, he started combing the delicate strands through his fingers and she instantly fell limp in his arms. She had no strength or desire to refuse as he tangled his hand in her hair's waves and pulled her into another passionate kiss.

Taking full advantage of her lack of resistance, Harry sat up and gently turned her so she was lying on the bed and he was looking over her. Smiling mischievously he said, "I may not know exactly what I'm doing but I do know that I now have the upper hand."

Still pleasantly weak from his touch, Hermione just laid there and grinned.

Harry removed his shirt and started running his fingertips over her chest and stomach, caressing every inch of her that he could reach. As he neared her pleasure area, she quivered expectantly, but he hesitated.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't have any experience with this. You will guide me, won't you?" Harry asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Of course, Harry. See look, it's okay." She took hold of his hand and placed it on a certain spot. He began to rub, slowly at first. Then as Hermione's breath started coming in short gasps, he gradually sped up. Soon he was exploring all her folds and quickly learned what areas to touch to get her really aroused until, finally, her whole body tensed and she let out a soft moan of pleasure as she reached her peak.

Harry straightened up and watched her as she lay breathless on the bed. He then realized that he'd been so focused on pleasuring Hermione that he hadn't noticed how turned on he had become. Stepping off the end of the bed, he loosened his belt and took off his pants. At first, he was amazed at how hard he had become, but then Hermione sat up and moved to the edge of the bed.

She beckoned him over to her and took his erection in her hands. Her fingers worked magic as she slid them down, lingered on his tip for a moment then moved them back up. During which time her eyes kept darting up to his face to see how he was reacting.

Harry leaned his head back and relished her touch. The sensation was wonderful. It then came as a shock when he felt something wet replace her soft fingers. He looked down and saw she had begun using her tongue. The heat given off in her breath and saliva heightened the feeling and soon she had her whole mouth around his hardness and was moving up and down, her tongue working frantically.

His breath quickened as she began to move more rapidly and he had to place his hands on her shoulders because he felt his legs would not be able to support him much longer. She stopped, however, before he had a chance to reach his peak.

"Why'd you stop?" he breathed, confused and frustrated.

"Because now we're both ready."

"Ready for what?"

"The best part. Come over this way."

Hermione lay back down and gestured for Harry to get on the bed over her. "You're on the top, which means you are in control, so if at any point you feel uncomfortable, feel free to stop and I'll understand."

"You're great, Hermione," he whispered as he bent down and kissed her. He didn't move his lips from hers for a few minutes, in which time he teased her folds again. She struggled under his touch, clearly not wanting to wait any longer for the feel of him inside her.

He was in control, though, and enjoyed having this kind of power over her. When he finally broke away from the kiss, he bent down and started playing with her with his tongue as she had.

As pleasurable as it was, it was still frustrating for Hermione that he wasn't fulfilling her desires, that he was stalling. Whether it was because he was scared or because he was maliciously teasing her, she did not know.

Finally, when he knew she could not take it anymore, he leaned forward and slipped inside her. Hermione moaned as he moved within her, faster and faster. They were extremely aroused by now and it did not take long before both their bodies tensed. Harry felt him spill into her at the same moment that she let out a scream as she reached her peak.

Out of breath and strength, Harry removed himself from Hermione and lay down next to her. With his head propped on his arm, he watched her gasping for breath next to him, reached up with his free hand, and started stroking her hair lovingly.

Looking up into his sweaty face and regaining her breath, Hermione sighed. Turning over on her left side, she snuggled against him. Taking hold of the hand that was still stroking her hair, she kissed it, wrapped it around her stomach and within minutes, they were asleep in each other's arms.

(end of chapter 3)


	4. Disturbing News

Chapter 4: Disturbing News

Chapter 4: Disturbing News

About a month after Harry and Hermione had shared a very romantic night above the Leaky Cauldron bar, Hermione received her Auror certifications with high honors. She was now among some of the elite at the Auror office. Afterward, she and Harry, now clean-shaven, had gone out to celebrate and it was then that he surprised her with a set of keys to their new house out in the country. He also made a promise to her that night that he would not touch another drop of alcohol as long as he was with her.

They had now been happily settled into the house for seven months and it was Harry's birthday. Instead of having a big party, they'd decided to have a quiet night to themselves and Hermione had made a delicious candlelit dinner, but without the wine, for Harry had remained true to his word. She then surprised him with a wristwatch and a cake she'd made herself with no magic.

After dinner, Hermione pulled on an apron and began washing the dishes. She always enjoyed doing them by hand since she had grown up with Muggle parents who couldn't magic the dishes into cleaning themselves. She also liked looking out of the window in front of the sink at the beautiful meadow behind their house. _Some day_, she thought as she placed a cup in the dish strainer and picked up a plate to wash, _I'm going to plant my vegetable garden right under this window._

Harry, who had been in the dining room straightening up, re-entered the kitchen and found Hermione with her back to him. Very quietly, he snuck up behind her, wrapped his arms around her stomach and rested his chin on her shoulder. She jumped slightly when he'd first touched her.

"Harry, you startled me," she said, but smiled blissfully. She always loved it when he showed his affection in small ways like this.

"I'm sorry, baby. I just wanted to thank you for dinner and making this my most memorable birthday."

"You're welcome." Turning her head, she kissed him, then continued washing the plate still in her hand. Harry just stood there. Reaching up he moved her hair aside and started kissing her neck. It was a good thing that he was holding her around her waist otherwise she would have fallen to the floor as her whole body became like butter melting in his hands. Instead, the hand clutching the plate lost its grip and it shattered at her feet.

Between sighs of contentment, for he kept kissing her neck, she said, "Harry, you made me drop the plate."

"I'm sorry again, but we can fix it later." With that, he let her go. Wiping her soapy hands on her apron, she looked around to see where he went. He was bending down on one knee behind her.

She started to say something, but he stopped her.

"Hermione, I love you more than I could ever express. These past months have been the happiest of my entire life, and I never want it to end." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wand and conjured up a small black box.

Hermione recognized what it may contain in an instant and her eyes began to fill with tears.

Harry went on. "Hermione Jean Granger, you would make me the happiest man in the world today, right now, if you'd answer me this question." He opened the box. "Will you marry me?"

Inside was a beautiful golden ring with three little diamonds on it.

Hermione lost it, "Oh, Harry," she cried. Wiping her eyes and taking a calming breath, she answered, "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. Harry James Potter." She bent down and wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing and crying at the same time.

She pulled away as Harry removed the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. "It's beautiful." She sighed. "Hermione Jean Potter, I like the sound of that."

About a week after the proposal, Harry walked into the early morning, sun lit kitchen just as the owl carrying the _Daily Prophet _arrived. He still wore his pajamas and gave a huge yawn as he took a mug down from the cabinet. A gentle, cool breeze fluttered in from the open window. Still in her nightdress, Hermione closed her eyes as it swept over her face, she knew she needed to enjoy it now while it lasted, before the midday's heat got a hold of it. She paid the owl then turned from the window and said good morning to Harry, who was now helping himself to some coffee. She placed the paper on the table next to where Harry was sitting and walked over to the counter to get their breakfast. Setting a plate in front of him, she kissed him before taking her own seat. They each took a half of the paper and began to eat.

It had become routine that once they were finished with half, they would swap. This way they both got to read the entire paper and Harry could glance through the classified ads for a job. Even though he'd been applying daily, he still had yet to be accepted into one. No one seemed to want to hire him considering he was bound to be a Death Eater magnet.

"What are your plans for today since you have the day off?" Harry asked as he took his empty plate to the sink.

"Well, I thought I'd plant my garden. I picked up everything I needed from Diagon Alley yesterday after work. I'm going to grow carrots, peas -" but before she could finish, there came a knock at the front door.

"I wonder who that could be." Putting down the mug he'd just refilled with coffee, Harry went to answer the door. Hermione placed her own dishes in the sink then followed.

"Hi, Kee," she said, addressing the Ministry messenger as he stepped over the threshold. He was a young oriental man, barely older than her and Harry and he wore a green cloak with a matching low, pointed hat, which he removed hastily.

"I'm sorry to bother you so early on your day off, Ma'am," he said politely.

"It's no problem. What news have you brought me that the _Prophet _could not provide?" He pulled an envelope from his pocket with the word 'confidential' stamped across it and handed it to her. "Good news, I hope," Hermione said, removing a piece of parchment from the envelope.

"I'm afraid not." She read down the report as he continued, "Intelligence has confirmed the location of a concealed Death Eater camp to the east of the Pennine Chain." He glanced warningly at Harry, who remained standing to the side of the door.

"Continue," Hermione prompted.

"Er … I beg your pardon, Ma'am," he said cautiously, giving Hermione a slight bow, "but I was told to give you this information in confidence."

"It's all right. Whatever you have to tell me can be said in Harry's presence. He's not working against the Ministry."

"Of course," he said apologetically and he bowed to Harry, small pink patches appearing on his cheeks. "Well, as it turns out, one of our covert agents came across a plan to deliver Harry to Lucius Malfoy."

Harry closed the door and stepped further into the room. "What do you mean, 'deliver'?" he asked.

"They hope to track you down so that Lucius Malfoy can kill you personally."

"So?" Harry asked. "We've known that the remaining Death Eaters have wanted me dead since I destroyed Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts. That's why I've been laying low all these years. How could they possibly find me?"

"This is how," Hermione said, looking up from the report. "They have Ginny."

"_What?!_" Harry bellowed, practically leaping over the coffee table to read the report over her shoulder. "How? When? _Why_?!" he stammered.

Patiently she answered, "How? Don't know. When? She went missing sometime yesterday. And why? Either to lure you out of hiding or to torture your whereabouts out of her. Remember that she and Ron are the only two outside of the Ministry who know where we live."

"Yeah, _I_ know. But how do _they_?"

"I don't know, Harry." The calmness in her voice rivaled the aggravation in his. "I know about as much as you do and I'm just as concerned, but raising your voice won't get you answers any quicker." Then turning back to Kee, she asked, "What is being done? How can I help?"

"_We_," Harry cut in as Kee opened his mouth to respond. "How can _we _help?"

"Harry, _you _can't," Hermione said. "I'm sorry, but we have to get you to the Ministry for your own protection."

"Protection?" Harry echoed, slightly affronted. "Who said I need to be protected? Ginny is my friend too. I can't just sit around and wait for other people to tell me what's going on. I want to help."

"Harry, that's exactly what they want; for you to go to them to save Ginny. That's a risk we can't take, and you can't stay here. You have to go with Kee back to the Ministry. I'll join you as soon as this is all sorted out."

After an impatient sigh, Harry asked to speak to Hermione privately and they excused themselves into the kitchen leaving Kee standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

"Hermione, look at all the times I went up against my enemies both at school and after, including the Death Eaters, and I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Hermione sighed impatiently and crossed her arms. Under her gaze, that quite plainly was telling him "not if I have anything to do with it are you coming," it suddenly struck Harry how much she so resembled Ron's mother, having seen Molly strike this pose many times before.

Shaking off the urge to run that usually came to him under this kind of look, Harry continued. "I know I can help, and the Death Eaters won't touch me, I won't let them." He placed his hands encouragingly on her shoulders. "Besides," he added with a grin, his eyes practically pleading with her, "what would people think of me as a future husband if I let my future wife go off to battle alone?" He smiled expectantly again.

"Harry," she sighed, "you are the most insufferable man I have ever met."

"Is that a 'yes'? Can I come?"

But she knew there was no arguing that kind of logic. He was right. "Oh, all right."

She had no choice but to agree. They quickly changed out of their nightclothes and left with Kee to go to the Ministry to prepare for battle.

(end of chapter 4)


	5. Preparations

Chapter 5: Preparations

Arriving at the Auror office, a large room divided into sections on the second level of the Ministry, Hermione was met by one of her superiors. A tall, thin man in long, deep blue robes, he briefly apprised her of the situation before leading her into one of the cubicles off to the right of the oak doors whose walls were cluttered with maps of England. Even more covered every inch of available desk space and on the top was a map of the region to the east of the Pennine Chain Mountains. He pointed out the location where Ginny was last known to be and the place where the senior Aurors were preparing to invade.

"Do we have absolute confirmation that this is where they are holding Ginny?" Hermione asked, looking over the map. "We don't want to ambush this camp and give away our positions for nothing."

"Yes, we verified the location right before you arrived. There is a team of seven already in place awaiting your arrival and your orders."

"My orders?" she asked. "I thought Neville Longbottom was heading up this mission?"

"He suggested you take the lead on this one. You've had more experience with the Death Eaters than he has; you know how they think. He volunteered to scout out the area; he'll be one of the people under your command and he's waiting to give you more details."

"All right, inform them that Harry and I are on our way."

He gave her a calculating look. "Harry's with you? Do you really think that's a good idea considering the circumstances?"

"Yes, I know" - she sighed - "but he wouldn't let me come if I didn't agree to allow him to as well."

He glanced quizzically down at her again but said nothing more before pointing out the location safest to Apparate to, wishing her good luck and leaving the cubicle.

Hermione and Harry Apparated to a small, secluded encampment a few miles away from where the Death Eaters were holding Ginny. This allowed them to prepare without the fear of detection before moving in on them.

All the Aurors and Harry quickly assembled in the main tent, which was lined with tables bearing more maps and bottles holding protective potions. Hermione was briefed on the specific information, then, with everyone working together, they were quickly able to devise a basic plan of attack.

"Now remember," Hermione instructed the small gathering of Aurors, "our primary objective is to ensure Ginny's safety. Once she is well out of harm's way, our next goal will be to eliminate as many Death Eaters as possible. But, some must be taken alive, for they will later direct us to all others. The Minister is relying on the success of this mission to apprehend those few still at large. I have every confidence in this team and your abilities. We proceed with the plans in 20 minutes. Good luck, everyone. Dismissed."

As everyone began to leave, Harry walked up to Hermione as she called out to one of the Aurors. "Brittaney, will you come here for a moment please?" A relatively young, brunette witch in violet robes stepped out of the queue at the door and walked over to Hermione. "I would like you to equip Harry with as many protective charms and potions as we have available." Then turning to Harry she added, "I would rather you weren't involved, but since you are, I would like to keep you as safe as witchly possible."

"I'm sure I'll be fine." Kissing Hermione lightly on the cheek, he left with Brittaney.

Hermione directed her attention to the maps that had been left on the table for her. Hearing a rustle behind her and thinking it was Harry again, she turned around. But it wasn't Harry she saw, it was Ron. He wore a ragged pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with a couple small holes in it. Despite the worn appearance of his clothes, the rest of him looked rather decent, Hermione suspected that these clothes were the best he owned. He gave her a weak smile as he stepped away from the entrance.

"Ron?" she asked, slightly shocked to see him. "What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?"

"The Ministry … er … sent me word that Ginny had gone missing and I heard you were leading the team." He took a few more steps into the middle of the tent. "She's my sister. I want to do whatever I can to help." He hesitated. "And I want to take any chance given me to prove that I still care for you since I can't seem to reach you in a letter."

He walked up to her and tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away and stepped out of his reach.

The wave of disappointment he felt did not stop him from trying to redeem himself. "Look, nothing happened between Lavender and I the night you saw us at the Three Broomsticks. I swear. She just needed someone to talk to. Please believe me," he pleaded, "and please forgive me for not arguing my case harder. If I had, you might have trusted me then."

"Ron, I _did _trust you." She looked up into his still freckle-strewn face.

"Please, Hermione. I love you." He took both her hands in his. "We can correct this. Please, allow me to make this right."

Hermione looked away. _He doesn't know yet_, she thought sadly.

She pulled her hands out of his grasp and turned her back on him. "Ron, I don't know how to tell you this." She took a few steps away before turning back to face him. "But you need to know."

Ron's brow furrowed in interested confusion. "What is it?"

She looked back into his eyes. "I'm engaged to Harry." She held up her left hand and showed him the ring Harry had given her over a week earlier.

Ron's entire face fell. "Oh … uh." There was a slight pause while they both stood there awkwardly. "Well, I'll just … Just leave you to your preparations, then, shall I?" Ron muttered, walking backward toward the tent opening. As he neared it, he opened his mouth as if to say something more, but closed it again and left.

Outside, Harry was approaching the tent from a distance at the same time Ron was leaving it. A little surprised to see him after what happened to his parents, Harry threw him a wave and called out, "Hey, Ron! What's-?" but broke off as Ron turned a corner and disappeared without a word.

Puzzled, Harry entered the tent. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, pointing his thumb outside.

Hermione just stood there, fiddling with her wand. "I just told him," she said, "about us."

"Oh." His eyes widened in understanding.

"Harry, he didn't even know. You didn't tell him?"

"I …well… I didn't think I had to. I'd have thought he'd have heard it from someone by now."

Frustrated by how narrow-minded he could sometimes be, she said, "Harry, he's still trying to cope with his parents' deaths. Do you really think people would be that eager to give him more bad news?"

"Bad news?" Harry's temper was starting to flare up as it sometimes did when he did not understand a problem and he wasn't getting an acceptable answer. "This is good news, or at least I thought it was."

"Yeah, good news for us, but it wouldn't have been for him. Learning that we were engaged would have meant that he'd lost me forever, that nothing could be done to get me back. He cannot very well come and steal me from his best friend. You _are _still friends, aren't you?" she added, for Harry had just reached up and scratched the back of his head as if to hide his skepticism.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

She pocketed her wand. Walking over to him, she placed her hands on his chest. "Then you need to go find him." She spoke very softly. "Talk to him. If he's going to aid us in this fight, he needs to go into it with a clear head, but he can't do that if he's angry with either of us."

"I will, but what about you? Aren't you going to talk to him?"

"Yes, but I still need to perform my own shield charms. You go ahead. I'll catch up as soon as I'm finished here."

"All right." Harry took her hands in his and kissed her lightly on the forehead before leaving to pursue Ron.

Hermione cast every protective spell on herself that she could think of, then tied her hair back to keep it out of her face. She exited her tent and found all the Aurors assembled outside, awaiting Neville's arrival to give them the location that was safest to Apparate to.

After a few minutes, she saw Harry join the group along with Ron, who didn't look much happier, but at least was again on speaking terms with Harry. She went over to meet them. Feeling it would be best to keep their interactions neutral, she greeted Harry the same as Ron.

"Hi, Harry. Hey, Ron. Everything all right between you?"

"Yeah, it is," Ron said, guiltily. "I'm sorry, Hermione. If I'da known, you know, about you and Harry, I would never have come on to you the way I did. It was wrong of me, but I really am happy for both of you. I am." He tried to smile, but could only manage a nod.

Hermione responded with an encouraging smile big enough for both of them. She could tell that he was trying to appear tough on the outside, while really his emotions were tearing him up inside; he was taking the news much harder than she'd expected. _I guess I never realized how much he truly loved me._

"Will you be joining us?" she asked Ron.

"If you let me."

"We could use all the help we can get. We just have to ensure you're properly shielded. Harry, will you see to that for me? Get Brittaney to help you, she's the best at that."

Just then, there came a popping noise from the center of the gathered Aurors as Neville appeared.

Hermione turned to face him. "What have you found out?"

"It's just as we expected," Neville said. "The Death Eaters have set up a defensive perimeter that stretches a half mile beyond the entire encampment with Ginny contained in the center of the compound. They haven't done anything to her yet. I fear, however, that if they aren't successful in luring Harry to them, they will begin to hurt her."

"How much time do we have until then?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Neville answered, "but I'd imagine it's not long. They grow restless."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Ron shouted, stepping forward, but Hermione put her arm out to stop him. He looked down at her, his eyes wide in disbelief, but she ignored this and spoke again to Neville.

"What type of barriers have they used, were you able to identify them?"

"Not all of them, I fear some may be of Darker origin than we have come across so far, but others are quite rudimentary and would be very easy to penetrate."

"How many Death Eaters were you able to see from your position?"

"At least a dozen. Some of them appear to be newer recruits. Whether they are there of their own free will or if they're under the Imperious curse, we cannot tell. One of them even appears to be Hispanic."

"Where's the Apparation site?"

"It's a forested area exactly due west of the encampment."

"All right." She turned back to the Aurors. "We'll regroup there. Be careful everyone. Keep out of sight and don't do anything until I give the order."

One by one, all nine of the Aurors, Harry and Ron turned on their heels and Disapparated.

(end of chapter 5)


	6. The Battle

Chapter 6: The Battle

Chapter 6: The Battle

Clouds were beginning to drift across the steadily rising sun as everyone gathered around Hermione, who began handing out modified versions of mini earpieces so that they could communicate. Once they we able to identify a section of the barrier weak enough for them to penetrate undetected, Hermione positioned Neville and Brittaney in separate areas of the woodlands that were slightly elevated from the campsite so they'd be able to relay information to the advancement team, who then took their own positions just outside the encampment.

This team consisted of four Aurors led by Hermione. There was Keith, a tall and built, tan skinned man with now reddish color hair, he liked to dye it; Alex, who was a head shorter than Keith, but just as muscled with fair skin and hair; and Jediah, who was the same height as Alex, but much more round in the face, with dark hair and pale skin. They all wore black t-shirts and jeans to make it easier to hide in the shadows. They were assigned to infiltrate the camp and secure the area surrounding Ginny while the rest, including Harry and Ron, were backups to keep the Death Eaters occupied until she was safely away.

Hermione's adrenaline was pumping, as she knew was everyone else's, as they began approaching the first tent. The dying grass crunched underfoot due to a recent lack of rain, making Hermione nervous because it meant that their approach wouldn't be as quiet as she'd hoped and increased their chances of detection.

According to Neville's report, Ginny was located directly in the center, but he couldn't be any more descriptive than saying she was surrounded by no less than five Death Eaters. Meanwhile all the others were either coming and going from tents or securing the perimeter.

Wands at the ready, Hermione's group passed the first tent as one of the Death Eaters emerged from it. Before he even had a chance to shout a warning to the other Death Eaters, Alex whispered, "_Petrificus Totalus_," and he keeled over, stiff as a board.

"Hide him," Hermione whispered urgently, "before anyone notices."

Just then, another Death Eater rounded the side of the tent in front of them. Jediah aimed a curse at him, but it missed and he ducked back around the tent and yelled, "Intruders to the west! Secure the girl!"

Within seconds, they were surrounded by hooded figures and spells were being fired in all directions as the backup Auror team joined the fray.

"My group, proceed!" Hermione shouted as she ducked a jinx and it hit the tent behind her, catching it on fire.

"Hermione, Ashely's down!" Keith said via the earpiece. "Her shield's broken,"

Hermione looked around and saw Ashley, a young brunette witch, laying face down on the ground some five yards from an advancing Death Eater. "Miguel, cover Ashley!" she commanded. Knocking out the Death Eater he was engaged in, Miguel, a thin bespectacled man with greying hair, turned just in time to send a stunning spell at the Death Eater right as he was opening his mouth to utter the killing curse.

"Let's go!" Hermione directed. They could still hear the sounds of the fighting behind them as they hurried toward the middle of the compound.

"Brittaney, Neville, do either of you have a visual on Ginny?" Hermione whispered, shielding her eyes as the sun reappeared from behind the clouds and the entire area was flooded with sunlight.

Neville's voice sounded clearly in her ear. "Affirmative. She's still in the same position; about twenty five yards in front of you. There's five guards around her."

_I hope we're not too late. _These words sounded repeatedly in Hermione's head as they looked around tent after tent with still no sign of Ginny.

"How much farther, Neville?" she asked, her anxiety building.

"They are just beyond the row of tents in front of you."

They split up so that they each would emerge between different tents. Hermione gave them orders not to move until she had visual confirmation and crept towards the clearing between the two tents on the far right. In her anxiety, the sound of the grass under her feet seemed to be intensified and she worried that it would alert the Death Eaters, but it didn't. The closer she got, the more she could see, but she remained far enough in the shadows for fear that she'd be spotted. Of the five supposed to be guarding Ginny, she could only make out four walking around the clearing, talking. She guessed the other must be inside one of the tents.

Just then, one of the Death Eaters passed by the two tents she was between and she had to back into the material of the one on her right to avoid being seen. It was from here that she saw Ginny. She was standing with her back to a large wooden pole, her hands bound behind it and her feet tied together.

As she watched, one of the Death Eaters approached her and looked around at his comrades, a grin spreading over his face. He wore no mask, but Hermione knew she had never seen him before. He was the Hispanic.

The other three turned to face Ginny and the Hispanic Death Eater, their backs to Hermione. They hooted and hollered for him to do it, so he raised his wand and yelled, "Crucio!" Ginny's whole body tensed and her face contorted into what would have been a scream of agony, yet no sound came out. As the on looking Death Eaters laughed derisively, a hooded figure stepped out from the tent opposite where Hermione was lurking. Seeing what was going on, he started yelling at the Death Eater torturing Ginny.

"Rays, what do you think you're doing? We are under orders from Lucius Malfoy not to harm her unless we hear directly from him." Rays lowered his wand, and Ginny fell limp against her bindings.

Hermione had to wipe a tear away and regain her composure. "Now!" she shouted.

The Death Eaters spun around as the sound of the Auror's spells rent the air, but only in time to see the jets of different colored light coming at them before they were knocked unconscious. Only Rays and the hooded Death Eater were able to respond in time. They fired back at the oncoming Aurors, but most of their curses just grazed off their shields. One of the spells broke through, however. It was a killing curse shot by the hooded Death Eater aimed directly at Hermione, but Keith had thrown himself in its path and before Hermione could react, he'd fallen dead at her feet.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Jediah asked as he shot a poorly aimed stunning spell at Rays that missed and nearly hit Ginny.

"I'm fine!" she shouted. "Watch where you're aiming!"

"Sorry!" he said, turning slightly pink.

Hermione ducked another spell shot at her and sprinted forward, aiming a curse at the hooded Death Eater, enraged that he'd killed one of her men. But before she had even finished saying the incantation, a large rock flew from behind her and hit him square in the face. He was knocked into the tent behind him and did not move again. Hermione looked around for who had bewitched it. It was Alex.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Keith was a very good friend of mine. I had to kill that Death Eater and that was the only way I could avoid using the Avada Kadavra curse."

But far from being angry, Hermione said, "You don't have to apologize. You did what you had to."

The Hispanic Death Eater took a frantic look around. Seeing that he was now outnumbered three to one, he Disapparated.

"Should we go after him?" Alex asked as Hermione began freeing Ginny from the bonds still holding her.

"No," Hermione answered. "Right now we need to focus on getting Ginny out of here safely. But do tie those three up, we can come back for them later. Be sure they won't get away." Then turning to Ginny she asked, "Are you all right?"

She mouthed the word, "Yes," but still no sound came out. She then pointed to her throat and mouthed "Silencio Charm."

"Oh." Hermione said the countercharm.

"Thank you," Ginny said, massaging her wrists.

"Did they hurt you?" Hermione asked, then hesitantly added, "I mean besides what they just did?"

"No, I'm fine, really. Just tired." She walked over and picked up one of the Death Eaters' wands. "This is mine. They took it from me yesterday."

A light breeze blew past them from the west and with it was carried the sounds of the battle still being waged on the edge of the encampment.

"Let's get you out of here." Hermione said, looking anxious again.

They hurried as fast as they could, weaving through the tents, until they could see glimpses of the fight ahead. Hermione instructed Alex and Jediah to escort Ginny to the forested area where Neville and Brittaney were hidden, then brandished her wand and joined in.

From first sight of the scene, she saw that Ashely had been revived and was dueling with two Death Eaters at once, one of which had removed his mask. It was Rookwood. She ducked a spell aimed by him then shot one herself at the other, but he blocked it and returned fire.

Miguel and Travis, a tall, thin man who was bald, despite his young age, were fighting back to back surrounded by three masked Death Eaters until Harry jumped in and stunned one of them.

Harry felt very out of place among so many skilled Aurors. He knew what spells to use, but had lost his speed and agility over the years so most of those he fired kept missing. Feeling sweaty and winded, he ducked behind a tree to catch his breath, the midday heat catching up with him.

Before Hermione could get a visual on Ron, a spell was shot straight at her and she had to jump to the side to avoid being hit. She aimed one back, but no sooner had she finished saying the spell than another came at her from a different direction.

She was trying to keep an eye on the entire situation, which almost resulted in her being hit a few times. Instead, she ducked out of the way just in time and only felt the intensity of the curses as they grazed by her. By now, a few yards separated her from the rest of the group.

Suddenly, she heard Travis shouting over the earpiece that Miguel's shield was broken. Almost at the very same time, she heard a deafening shriek of pain. She whipped around and saw Miguel lying on the ground screaming and a Death Eater standing over him with his wand pointed directly at his chest.

Harry had heard it too and turned to look around the side of the trunk. It was then that he saw a dark figure move among a group of trees not that far from where he was hidden. It was the Hispanic Death Eater and he was holding what appeared to be a bow and arrow.

Harry glanced in the direction he was facing and realized his target was Hermione. He turned his attention back to the archer in time to see him release the arrow.

"HERMIONE!" Harry shouted. She barely had time to turn her head before he heard the unmistakable sound of the arrow piercing flesh and Hermione's yell of pain.

So well had they magically protected themselves before entering battle that they believed close to nothing would harm them. They had not, however, anticipated that the Death Eaters would use ancient Muggle weaponry.

Harry was halfway to Hermione's side before she even hit the ground, her wand falling by her side. Not caring that they were illegal, Harry shot killing curses at several of the Death Eaters now closing in on her, the rest fled as he skidded to a halt beside his beloved Hermione. Immediately Harry knew something was seriously wrong because her breath was coming in short, painful gasps. The arrow had lodged itself in her back to the left of her right shoulder blade.

Ron, who had also heard Hermione's scream, came running over. The other Aurors turned to look in her direction as well, but since they were still surrounded by Death Eaters, there was nothing they could do.

"Ron, it looks bad," Harry said, unsure whether he felt more like crying or strangling the Death Eater who had done this to her, or both. "And I know nothing about healing spells. Where can I get some help?"

"There's a Healer's camp just to the north of here. I think that's where they brought Ginny. You could take her there."

"Thanks," he said as he positioned Hermione to pick her up. "Who was that Death Eater anyway? Do you know?"

"Yeah, Neville told me. His name's Garrett Rays, he's a new recruit from somewhere. I think he secretly supported Voldemort-" Ron shuddered, he still wasn't used to saying the name "-while he was still alive and now joins in the fight to avenge his death. Don't worry, Harry. I'll take care of him, you just make sure Hermione's all right."

"Thanks," Harry said again as he lifted Hermione into his arms, taking care not to bump the arrow. "This won't be easy. I've never had to Apparate while holding someone before." He kissed Hermione on the forehead, "Hold on, baby. You'll be all right." With that, he turned on his heel and Disappeared with a small pop.

(end of chapter 6)


	7. The Healer Camp

Chapter 7: The Healer Camp

Chapter 7: The Healer Camp

Just as Harry had expected, Apparating while cradling Hermione was difficult. He reappeared farther south than he'd intended and dared not try again, so he began to walk the remaining half a mile to the camp. By now, dark clouds were gathering across the sky, threatening some much-needed rain, but Harry hardly noticed. He considered himself fortunate that he hadn't Apparated any farther to the east or he would have ended up right in the middle of a swiftly flowing river.

He was worried about Hermione, for now her breath was extremely shallow and the skin around her lips was beginning to tinge blue. After traveling upstream for what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached the edge of the encampment. By now, he was exhausted from the effort of carrying Hermione and small drops of rain were beginning to fall on his face, but he had not once stopped to rest. _She must not die_, he kept repeating desperately, willing himself forward.

"Someone, help me, please!" Harry yelled as loud as he could before he even reached the nearest of the four tents, but he was so tired and weak that it came out as little more than a hoarse whisper and the sound of the river drowned out his call.

Just then, a female Healer with dark strawberry blonde hair and bright green robes emerged from the largest of tents to the left of the one Harry was headed for. She held a bowl and was apparently heading to fill it with herbs when she spotted him carrying Hermione and nearly on the verge of collapse. Calling out to the other Healers, she dropped her bowl and went rushing over to them. "What happened?" she asked, taking out her wand and conjuring a stretcher on which to place Hermione as three more Healers emerged from the other tents all wearing the same bright green robes. The way Harry had Hermione positioned in his arms, it wasn't until the Healer went to move her that she saw the arrow.

"Battle," Harry gasped. "Death Eaters. Arrow. Please!" The last word came as a desperate plea and a young, sandy brown haired Healer who'd come rushing to help had to grab his arm to steady him.

"We must remove this arrow before we do anything else," said the dark strawberry blonde Healer. She pointed her wand at the arrow; it vanished and reappeared in her hand. Giving it to a nearby Healer, she quickly conjured a clean cloth and pressed it firmly against the wound.

"Let's get them inside, quickly!" she yelled as the rain began to fall harder. She bewitched the stretcher bearing Hermione to float toward the largest tent while the Healer still holding the arrow followed and the two others helped Harry in after them.

Once inside, they steered Harry to a chair just inside the entrance and Hermione to a bed off in the right hand corner where they propped her head up on a pillow and elevated her legs. The tent was perfectly square with about four beds lining each side except the one Harry was sitting along. In the middle of the tent was a large table on which stood several bowls of potion ingredients, empty vials and a cauldron bubbling over a small fire.

From where he sat, Harry could see that Hermione's bed was surrounded by shelves and tables covered in more herbs, other potion ingredients and labeled potion bottles. He watched as they tore open the back of her robes to allow easier access to the wound and began applying some of the potions on it to clean it up and begin trying to heal it, but he could see little else.

The young, sandy brown haired Healer tried to get Harry to drink some water, but he kept pushing it away and asking if Hermione was going to be all right. "Please, tell me! Will she be okay?" he yelled again, but his voice was still very hoarse.

Finally an older woman Healer with dark red brown hair who had been bustling around Hermione walked over to him and, in a very calm voice (too calm in Harry's opinion), said, "Harry, is that right?" He realized the only way she'd known his name was because she had seen the scar, but he nodded nonetheless. "We are doing everything we can, but it may be better for all of us if you waited in another tent."

"No!" he shouted, slightly hysterical. He very quickly calmed himself down. "I want to stay with Hermione. I'm sorry. I'll stop badgering you."

"All right, then." She smiled, but Harry, despite his anxiety, noticed the warmth in her smile did not reach up to her eyes, which seemed very cold indeed. "Please, drink some water. You will soon feel better." She offered him the cup, which he took, then went back to aid the others.

Harry tried to listen to what they were saying, but there was a ringing in his ears and the rain continued to pound on the outside of the tent. He still felt dizzy and straining his ears too much made it even worse. He eventually stopped trying to listen and conceded to watch instead.

Along with the two working on Hermione, Harry could also see another taller, dark haired Healer at a nearby table. He had been handed and was apparently examining the arrow. After a few minutes, Harry saw him call to the dark strawberry blonde Healer; she appeared to be the one in charge. He spoke to her briefly then held something up for her to see. Very distinctly, Harry saw her mouth the words 'Are you sure?' then glance in his direction. She turned and started walking toward him.

He tried to stand as she approached, but she motioned for him to stay seated. "Harry, my name is Lavinia. In all the frenzy, I'm afraid I wasn't able to introduce myself properly."

"What's going on? Are you finished? Is she going to be all right?"

She crossed her arms before answering; it wasn't a very comforting gesture. "We have repaired what damage we could, but there was an unanticipated factor involved."

"What do you mean? I don't understand." Harry's head was pounding.

Lavinia hesitated. "It appears that it was not just an arrow that pierced her." She held up the object the male Healer had shown her. It was a miniscule vial, no larger than her fingernail and it was cracked at the end. "This was found attached to the tip. It appears to have contained some kind of poison."

Harry could not believe what he was hearing. "A poison? But you know what kind it is, don't you? And you have the antidote?" The look on her face at these questions did not give Harry the answers he was seeking. "Right? Tell me you can save her!"

Harry glanced behind her and watched as Hermione was moved into a clean bed farther down the tent.

"She will be waking soon, then we will give her something to help with the pain. In answer to your question, though: yes, we do know what the poison is. The antidote, however, will be difficult to acquire; it is very complicated to make. If it is not brewed with exact precision, the effects could be more devastating than that of the poison's. And even if it is done correctly, it's use would not guarantee her well being. It would depend on how much time has passed since the poison entered her system and the antidote was administered."

Harry felt numb, he could scarcely hear anything else Lavinia said. Though she kept speaking, Harry stood up and began walking toward Hermione, but she did not try to stop him. His legs felt like lead. By the time he had knelt by her side, Hermione had begun to stir.

Opening her eyes, just barely, Hermione looked around. "Har … Harry," she said, hardly audible.

"Yes, baby. I'm here," he said, as he started gently pushing her hair off her face. He did not have the heart to tell her the truth about her condition. "You are going to be all right," he said, trying to convince himself of this as well. "You'll be fine. This will soon be over. Then we can go home. Plant that vegetable garden you were going to start today."

"Harry," she said slowly.

"Yes." He took her hand and tried to smile, but it was only half-hearted. It was taking everything he had to keep from crying.

"You have never been a good liar."

His smile faded. He had no control over the tears that were now beginning to form.

He did not have to say anything else, for Hermione had seen the truth within his eyes. She smiled weakly. "Harry, you know me. I will fight for as long as it takes."

She had to stop to catch her breath, each of which she took seemed to cause her considerable pain, almost as much as it caused Harry to watch her struggle. Turning to face Lavinia, he said, "I thought you were going to give her something for the pain!"

Lavinia nodded to the older Healer standing near the bed and she walked over with the potion bottle. With some help from Harry, Hermione was able to drink most of it.

"She needs to rest, now." Lavinia said, putting a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I want to stay with her, if that's all right."

She smiled. "Of course it is."

"Harry," Hermione said. He turned back to her. "If something goes wrong and I don't make it, please have my body cremated."

"I'm sure that won't be an issue for quite..." but he broke off. Something was wrong, for now her breath was coming in very short gasps.

Harry was shunted aside as Lavinia and the older woman rushed over. Panic stricken, he asked, "What's going on? What's happening?" But he got no reply. He watched fearfully as they tried everything they could think of to get her breathing normally again, but with no success.

Lavinia turned from the bed. "Harry, I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do."

"No. You've got to try!' he shouted in numb disbelief. He pushed past her as he knelt again by his beloved's side and squeezed her hand. "Hermione, stay with me. Hold on. Please! Help her!" he shot angrily at Lavinia, who was now standing off to the side. But Hermione was barely breathing now and the tears were flowing freely down Harry's cheeks.

Through labored breaths, Hermione was able whisper the words, "I love you…" before her eyes closed and her hand fell limp in his.

"I love you too, Hermione." Harry said. He waited for a sign that she'd heard him, but it never came. "Hermione!" Nothing. "No!" He began sobbing and hitting his fist into the side of the bed in grief.

Lavinia took him by the shoulders while the older woman felt Hermione's neck for a pulse. She sighed and gave the merest of nods to Lavinia, who then began to guide Harry to the tent entrance.

"No!" he screamed. "She's not dead! Please, take me back! Help her!" He struggled with all his might against Lavinia as she led him to the next tent, the rain still coming down in torrents and drenching them both in seconds, but her hold was too strong, and he was still too weak.

This was a small tent, set up as a living area with only a couple of beds lining one wall and a table and chair set along the other. Lavinia led Harry over to the table.

"Stop! Let me go!" He continued to fight, but his remaining strength quickly gave out and he threw himself into one of the chairs, crying and pounding on the table in frustration.

Lavinia did not try to stop him this time, instead she walked toward the entrance and looked back at the patient's tent in time to see the women Healers carrying the body out to the rear enclosure.

Looking back at Harry, Lavinia had to wipe a tear from her own eye. _He must have really loved her_, she thought.

(end of chapter 7)


	8. Acceptance

Chapter 8: Acceptance

Chapter 8: Acceptance

For the next few weeks, Harry kept himself isolated from the rest of the camp. Now that the rain had finally stopped, he could normally be found wandering aimlessly among the damp trees bunched together on the far western edge of the encampment. Most of the Healers kept their distance out of respect for Harry's mourning. Only Lavinia sought him out to bring him meals and give him company, and that was only if he wanted it; otherwise, she'd just leave the tray for him and return to the camp.

On the rare occasion that he did want someone to talk to, Lavinia merely listened as he talked, mostly about Hermione and the life they had just begun to share together and were going to live. And though she knew he wanted to at times, never once did he cry in front of her. Lavinia thought this may be due to the fact that he barely knew her and didn't feel comfortable crying in front of people he didn't know, but this didn't bother her, she understood.

He could never be seen in the encampment. He would wake up early, seclude himself among the trees he'd become so familiar with, then return late at night to crawl into bed for a few hours. He slept in the little tent Lavinia had led him into the day Hermione had died, along with the male Healer whose name Harry later found out was Tobias. The two women - Lavinia and the sandy brown haired girl named Andrea - slept in the other tent; the third, however, hadn't been seen since Lavinia last saw her carrying Hermione away to be cremated.

Harry found himself each night dreaming about Hermione, which meant he barely got any rest because once he woke up, he couldn't get back to sleep. In his dreams, she was either far off and he was running toward her but never seemed to reach her before she faded into the darkness that surrounded her, or she was merely standing next to him smiling. In both, no matter how hard he tried, Harry couldn't get near to her, as if there were an invisible hand between them, holding him back. He would try to yell out her name, but his voice got strangely stuck in his throat and he would wake up thrashing around in his bed, struggling to get to her. Once, he even woke up believing he had heard Hermione call out his name and looked around frantically, believing that she wasn't really dead, that he would see her standing at the foot of his bed, smiling at him.

When he finally realized it was only a dream, he felt like his heart was being wrenched from his chest. Standing up, he walked outside and stood gazing at the star filled sky, fighting back tears. He knew what had happened, but didn't want to admit it, but he now realized that no matter how much he denied the truth, it didn't make it any less true. Hermione was dead and she wasn't coming back and it was because he let her go to the Ministry that day. Harry lowered his head and walked past the other tents toward the familiar trees where he spent the remainder of the night, crying.

The next morning, Lavinia went looking for him but when she didn't find him in his tent, she went to the only other place she knew he'd be. Sure enough, she found him sitting against a tree with his face buried in his knees.

"Harry," she said, tentatively. "I brought you some breakfast. Would you like some?" But when he didn't reply, she just set the tray down next to him and started to walk away.

Harry looked down at the breakfast tray. It held a small teapot with a cup and saucer, a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, toast and bacon and several little cups of assorted jams and jellies. "Lavinia," he said, rather hoarsely, for he hadn't spoken barely a word in days, not including those he yelled while sleeping.

She stopped a few yards away but did not turn to face him.

"Thank you," he said, not looking up.

She just smiled and continued back to the camp. With no patients, the Healers spent most of their time restocking their potion supplies or researching new healing spells and potions. Tobias was even able to leave for a short vacation to visit his family. And by now, the older Healer with the dark red brown hair had returned and her and Lavinia had planned on cleaning out the tents and changing all the bedding. As they were hanging the sheets out on a cloths line they had just magicked there, the red brown haired Healer looked up in time to see Harry walking toward them with the breakfast tray. With her back to the forest, Lavinia did not see him, and it wasn't until the other Healer brought it to her attention that she even noticed he was now standing behind her.

As Lavinia turned to face him, Harry gave a small smile, which she returned. Looking down at the tray still in his hands, Lavinia saw that it was empty. "You ate all of it?" she asked, mildly surprised because he had almost completely stopped eating for a few days, all the other trays she had brought to him had been returned, hardly touched.

"It was the best meal I've had since…" he paused, his voice was still raspy. "Well … that day." He didn't have to say anymore, Lavinia knew what he was referring to. "You care to go for a walk?" he asked.

Lavinia looked over at the red brown haired Healer. "I can take care of this, Lavinia," she said. "You go ahead."

They walked upstream in silence against the almost overflowing river, the heat that usually accompanied the days in August hadn't begun to rise yet. Lavinia, who was closest to the riverbank, kept her gaze on the water. After a few minutes, Harry was the first to speak. "I wanted to thank you properly for … well … everything." Lavinia shifted her eyes in Harry's direction but kept her head facing the river. "For giving me my space when I wanted it, and for listening and bringing me food." He chuckled, the first time he had laughed in what seemed like years. "If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have eaten at all. I would love a drink, though," he added in an undertone.

"I'm afraid we haven't got anything here. I could have someone fetch something for you, if you like. We're Apparating into Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade all the time, I'm sure we could bring something back for you."

Harry was tempted at the thought. "No, I really shouldn't." Lavinia turned to look at him. "I've had a history of problems with alcohol and I promised Hermione I wouldn't drink anymore. But … well … I guess, since she's…" he stopped as tears began to fill his eyes. _Dead _he thought, sadly. It still hadn't quite sunk in yet.

They kept walking along the riverbank, but neither spoke. Harry was trying desperately to stop more tears from forming and to discretely wipe away those which already had so that Lavinia wouldn't notice.

She had noticed, but wasn't going to say anything about it. She slipped her hands into the pockets of her robes as they walked and felt something round and smooth hit her fingers. Pulling it out, she realized it was the ring she had seen Hermione wearing. "Oh, Harry, I was holding on to this for you. Here." She held up the ring as they stopped and watched as Harry's eyes brimmed again with tears, but this time, they were tears of gratitude as he reached for the gold engagement ring with the three little diamonds.

"I would have given it to you sooner, but I guess I forgot I had it. I'm sorry." She really did feel bad, and it showed on her face.

"No, it's all right, Lavinia," Harry said. He looked down at her and smiled. "I don't think you realize how much this means to me. Thank you for giving it back to me."

Harry slipped the ring onto the finger that held his own as they continued walking. "How did you get it?" he asked, curiously, remembering that Lavinia had stayed with him in the men's tent as they cremated Hermione's body; her dying wish.

"My mother gave it to me to give to you. She removed it thinking you might like to hold on to it."

"Your mother?"

"Yes, her name's Annika. She's a Healer here, too, the one with the reddish brown hair. She's the reason I became interested in Healing. I used to help her as a kid. I would watch her and the way she would interact with all her patients as if this were all just a game that they were all going to win. She's always smiling and making them laugh, trying to make them forget their pain without magic, and it works. I've always admired her, and I still learn something new from her every day, even now. She's a wonderful woman." With this last part, Harry thought he noticed a slight change in her tone of voice, but quickly brushed it off thinking that he must have imagined it.

Harry thought about what Lavinia had said for a moment, wishing that he'd had someone to look up to growing up. And though he had tried to forget them, the faces of the Dursleys suddenly swam into his mind. He had lived with them since the age of one-year-old until the day he had become of age in the Wizarding community - seventeen. They were his only living relatives; his mother's sister Petunia, her husband Vernon, and their horrible son Dudley. They had treated him like he was less than the dirt Aunt Petunia planted her flowers in and never once had they given him a reason to admire them. It wasn't until he had gone off to study magic that…

_Magic_, Harry thought. This reminded him of something that had been bothering him for quite a while now. "Why is it that I can't do magic?" he asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Lavinia inquired. She had jumped slightly when he had spoken, having been lost in her own thoughts.

"I've been trying for a few days now to Apparate away from here." Lavinia stared up at him in surprise, this was certainly news to her that he wanted so desperately to leave. "But every time I try, I can't even seem to go two inches. Then I tried to do other magic, you know, make things fly, summon things, but nothing worked. My wand couldn't even shoot sparks if I wanted it to. Is it broken?" he asked, pulling it out of his pocket.

She took it from him and examined it for a moment. "Well, I'm certainly no wand expert." She pointed it at a nearby rock. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." The rock rose steadily into the air before she lifted the spell and it fell with a thud back to the ground. "It seems to work well enough. Maybe it's because you've been so upset lately, about losing Hermione." She handed him back his wand. He just stared at her, perplexed.

"What could that have to do with it? Have I lost my powers?"

"You haven't lost them, no. But your grief could be hindering your magical abilities. I've seen it before and it's not completely unheard of that, when a person goes through a traumatizing experience or something greatly upsets them, their powers either become weakened, change somehow, or even do not work at all." Seeing the horrified look on his face, she quickly added, "But it almost always returns to normal once the person has gotten past whatever caused the change in the first place. It is very, _very _rare to hear of a case when someone's powers were never restored."

Relieved, Harry said, "Now how about that drink? I'm sure one wouldn't hurt."

(end of chapter 8)


	9. Downward Spiral

Chapter 9: Downward Spiral

Chapter 9: Downward Spiral

The next day, Lavinia asked Andrea to pick up some butterbeer for herself (she wasn't much of a drinker, she told Harry. She tried to avoid the strong stuff) and suggested he get the same. But he said he no longer cared for the taste of it and preferred either firewhiskey or red currant rum. Lavinia agreed to get him the rum, but only one bottle.

By the time Andrea returned, it was already getting dark. She had had to pick up a few other things while in Diagon Alley and it had taken her a while to find an extremely rare herb needed for a new potion they were trying.

Harry and Lavinia ate dinner outside while they watched the sunset fade into a beautiful, cloudless star-filled night and a cool wind began to blow. After dinner, Lavinia broke out the drinks. She poured Harry's rum and her butterbeer into crystal glasses she had conjured and they clinked their glasses together before each taking a drink.

Lavinia leaned back and rested her elbows on the soft grass, gazing up at the stars. "That's one of the things I love about being way out here," she said, "there is no one else around for miles and you have a clear, unobstructed view of the stars. I love looking at them. It's so peaceful. The stars…" Her voice trailed away as she continued to stare at the sky.

Harry finished off the last of the rum with a sigh, desperately wishing he had more. Curiosity getting the best of him, he pulled out his wand and tried to refill his glass. At first, nothing happened, but then a small stream of liquid began trickling out of the tip. Seeing this, he glanced at Lavinia to make sure she had not seen, but she was too preoccupied to even notice what he was doing. He then directed his wand to the glass, slowly allowing it to fill. When it was full, he softly muttered, "_Finite_," and the last few drops spilled from his wand tip into the glass.

Lifting the glass to his lips, Harry took a drink. The taste was wonderful, even better than the rum. So he took another, then another, and another more. Soon this too was gone and he had to refill the glass again. He hadn't had a drink in so long that it didn't take as long as before for him to feel the effects of it.

After finishing his third glass of this new drink, Harry heaved a sigh and smacked his lips together. This seemed to snap Lavinia out of her reverie and she looked over at him. She noticed the empty rum bottle sitting next to him and said, "Well, you sure drank that quickly."

Harry swayed slightly. "Yeah, this new stuff's great, even better than the rum."

"New stuff?" Lavinia said, puzzled. "What new stuff? That's all we brought you." It was then that she saw he was holding onto his wand, but it had been hidden from her.

"Harry," she said slowly. "What have you been drinking?" She leaned forward, off her elbows and watched as he waved his glass around.

It took a minute for him to respond, as if he couldn't quite get his tongue around the words. Finally, he said, slurring his words, "I d-don't know. But, it's s-s-strong. Never tasted anything l-" he hiccupped slightly "- like it. Hmm. Want some?" He picked his wand back up and tried to direct it to his glass as the liquid began trickling from its tip again, but he couldn't keep his hand steady and it dribbled down the side, onto his hand.

Lavinia watched him with a mingled expression of disgust and pity as the liquid continued to miss the glass and poured instead into his lap. The reason she didn't drink much was because she didn't like being around people who did; she greatly disapproved of the way they behaved under alcohol's influence and preferred not to become one of them. She also disliked the feeling of not being in control, of having a clouded mind so that she couldn't think straight. Furthermore, she dreaded what she may say or do if things got out of hand; she held more than a few secrets that may cost her her life if she ever revealed them.

Lavinia swung her legs around so that she was kneeling on them, facing Harry, and made to take hold of his hand to at least steady it, but Harry pulled it out of her reach.

"Harry, I think you've had enough. Give me your wand." She held out her hand, but he only moved his glass and wand father away. This was beginning to frustrate Lavinia, so she pulled out her own wand and muttered, "_Accio Harry's wand_."

His wand flew out if his hand and into Lavinia's before his mind even had the chance to register what she had said. Goggling at his now empty hand, wondering where his wand had gone, Harry looked up at Lavinia with slightly unfocused eyes. He stammered, but couldn't manage to say anything distinguishable.

She vanished the empty rum bottle and both of their glasses, hers remained barely touched, before tucking their wands within her robes and standing up. "Come on, Harry, get up. I need to get you inside." She grabbed Harry under the arm and pulled him to his feet, but when she went to let him go, he wobbled slightly and she had to retighten her hold to keep him upright. "Harry," she groaned as she struggled under his weight, all of which he was applying on her, his legs not wanting to support him. One hand still gripping his arm, she placed the other one around his back and under his other arm as she began steering him to his tent. "You're legs aren't broken, Harry. Walk."

Harry slumped a little in her grasp before pulling his leg forward and taking a step. He looked up at Lavinia, his eyes still unfocused, and slowly said, "You look beautiful, Hermione. Do you know that? I'm glad you're here."

Lavinia stopped for a second and stared at him. She didn't know whether to take what he had said as an actual compliment or disregard it as the effects of the alcohol. Either way, she couldn't stop the smile and slight flush that formed in her cheeks as she resumed dragging him into the tent and over to his bed. She propped him against the foot of the bed so she could draw the covers and lit the lamp that stood on the table in the middle of the room. The table was littered with _Daily Prophets _and, lying on the top of the papers was a small, glass chess set. Lavinia then half carried, half dragged Harry onto the sheets, slipped his glasses off so he couldn't break them, and pulled a chair over before leaving.

Harry lifted his head off the pillow and stared at the blurred shape that was Lavinia as she exited the tent. He wanted to call after her, to tell her to come back, but he found that his voice was stuck in his throat. He let his head fall back with a sigh. He tried to think of what he may have done to make her mad, but his brain felt like mush and his thoughts kept getting mixed together. He had called her something, but what was it? Then he remembered, horrified. He had called her Hermione. But Hermione was dead; she had been dead for about a month, now.

He reached up and hit his fist into his forehead; it missed and grazed off the right side of his head. _Stupid_, he thought. He leaned forward and tried to sit up, but he suddenly felt dizzy and lay back down to prevent himself from throwing up.

Just then, Lavinia re-entered carrying a bottle of some yellow-orange potion. "This should help remove some of the rum from your system, I'm not so sure about the other stuff, though. Can you sit up?" She placed the bottle on the chair as he leaned forward.

"I don't feel so good," he said, it felt like his stomach was doing flips and would come tumbling out of his mouth at any moment.

"I'm not surprised," Lavinia said as she propped his pillows against the rails of his bed so he could sit up against them. "Who knows what that was you were drinking or how strong it was. That is one thing you should never conjure up, especially in your present magical state." The tone in her voice was both stern and concerned at the same time as she began tipping the potion into his mouth. Almost instantly, Harry felt his mind begin to clear and he found he could see straighter, at least as straight as he could without his glasses.

When he had drunk the entire potion, he slumped back onto his pillow. He felt ashamed of himself, never in all the years that he'd been drinking had he ever said anything that had hurt or offended someone. This was mainly because he usually drank alone, and that was why. He glanced at Lavinia as she placed the empty potion bottle on the ground, next to her chair then turned around and sat down.

"Lavinia," he said, tentatively. She looked down at him. "I'm sorry. I knew how much of a problem I'd had in the past with drinking and I should never have suggested getting some. I want to apologize for my behavior, and for calling you Hermione. But, what I said … when I said you looked beautiful, I meant it."

Lavinia was glad the lamp was behind her so that Harry couldn't see as the pink began to rise up into her cheeks again. She wasn't sure of what to say so she just smiled and said, "Well, now we both know. We won't be buying you any more drinks from Diagon Alley."

Harry nodded then yawned.

"Would you like me to leave, so that you could get some sleep?" Lavinia asked.

"No, it's all right. I really don't want to go to sleep. Could we just talk for a while?"

"About what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Anything, really. Do you like Quidditch?"

Lavinia shrugged. "I know the basics of the game, but I've never actually watched a match. I'm not really into sports. Tobias is a huge fan of the German team, that's his home country. What fascinates me the most is how all the players are on broomsticks. I wish I could fly. I've never been able to get the hang of it and just the thought of being that high above the ground with nothing to support you but a thin piece of wood. It's not that much of a comfort. I guess my talents lie with Healing."

Harry gazed at her in amazement. "You don't know how to fly? It's easy!"

Lavinia felt a slight twinge of irritation at these words, she didn't like it when people made a big deal out of something she wasn't very good at or didn't like to do. "Maybe for you."

"I need to take you flying sometime. It's all right, you'll be safe. I'll wait until I have more control of my powers again." He said this quickly, because of the look on her face.

Lavinia relaxed. A sudden gust of wind blew in through the tent opening, extinguishing the flame of the lamp and throwing the tent into darkness. Lavinia stood up and lit her wand. Walking over to the table in the middle of the room, she relit the lamp and her eyes fell on the chess board. "Harry?" she asked, turning to face him. "Do you play chess?"

"I did, but I haven't in a long time."

"Would you fancy a game? It's been a while for me too, but it could be interesting."

"Sure." Harry stood up and walked slowly to the table, the rum may have been flushed from his system, but the other stuff was still there, and he still felt somewhat nauseous as he sat down and put on his glasses and Lavinia pulled her chair over.

They played late into the night, each achieving a few wins. They were about equal in their abilities, but Lavinia suspected Harry might play better if he wasn't impaired. As the rest of the alcohol passed through his system - and he made quite a few bathroom visits - he started getting sleepier. Finally, after Harry made a move that landed his queen right in the path of one of Lavinia's rooks, and the rook had quite violently taken her out, he decided that he should get some sleep.

Harry slumped back to his bed as Lavinia straightened up the table and extinguished the lamp. Turning to say good night to him, she found that Harry was already asleep, the first rays of early morning sunlight playing across his face. Lavinia walked over to him and kneeled down beside the bed, watching him sleep.

She stayed there for close to an hour as he fretted in his sleep, tossing and turning. Every once in a while, he would mutter something, a few times it almost sounded like he said Hermione's name. As she gazed at him, Lavinia couldn't help but feel sorry for him and it was rather unsettling to see him like this. She didn't realize he was still grieving over Hermione's death. He seemed to have finally accepted it and was on the way to forgiving himself, letting himself off the hook for the guilt he had felt for letting her die. Perhaps it was only in his dreams that it now came back to haunt him.

_Hermione_, she thought sadly, sighing. _Maybe I should just call this whole thing off. Who am I to cause him more pain?_ She stood up, but kept staring at Harry's now still body, her mind reeling. She sighed again. _I can't, it's too late to turn back now. The damage is already done. And besides, he'd never forgive them for what they'd done to her, and never forgive me._

She walked outside into the August sunlight, the temperature was already rising. Everything was beginning to stir, the birds were chirping as they dug for worms and Lavinia could hear the other two female Healers rustling around in their tent, getting ready for the day. She walked over like she was going to enter her tent, but decided not to and turned around instead and began walking toward the forest, where Harry used to spend a lot of his time. She was glad that Tobias was off on vacation, otherwise her and Harry wouldn't have had the entire tent to themselves last night. _Not that we would have done anything besides talk and play chess. I mean, _Lavinia tried to explain to herself_, I like Harry and all, but not like that and he wouldn't have tried anything either, not having just lost Hermione a month ago. But I am beginning to doubt if what we are doing with him is right. I really don't understand what the purpose of this is. Hasn't he suffered enough, all of his life?_

Lost in thought, she hardly had time to register the sound as someone emerged from the tent behind her before she was grabbed, swung around and thrown up against the nearest tree. Squinting against the blinding sun that was now directly in her face, she looked up into the face of her mother. "What -" Lavinia began to say, but Annika slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her.

"Let me remind you that that boy means _nothing _to us." Annika hissed, her face livid. "I've seen how you act around him, and it seems to me you are either an exceptional actress - which I doubt you are - or you truly have feelings for him." Held tight against the trunk, Lavinia was barely able to shake her head no, but Annika ignored this. "Do not forget what he has done to us, the reason for which he should pay. But I warn you, get in the way, and I won't hesitate to kill you as well! Just do your job!" With that said, Annika released her hold on her daughter and walked off without another word.

Lavinia leaned against the trunk, breathing heavy. Her mother was right. There was nothing she could do to halt the plans while they were already in motion. The only thing she could do now was make Harry as happy as possible, while she could.

(end of chapter 9)


	10. The Unexpected

Chapter 10: The Unexpected

Both Lavinia and Harry slept through the morning. Lavinia awoke as the late afternoon sun began creeping into the tent, having not slept well. Her back ached where her mother had pushed her into the tree and, because of that, it had taken her a while to fall asleep and she often woke up if she rolled over with pain shooting down her spine. Suspecting that one of her vertebrae was out of place, she emerged from the tent just as her mother walked by carrying an armful of packages, apparently just returning from town. Annika gave her daughter a meaningful glance before continuing into the main Healer's tent.

Not in the mood to work, Lavinia decided to take a walk alongside the river. Her mind was still reeling with the thoughts of what had happened earlier in the day as she began walking far upstream. She watched the water as she went, listening to the sounds it made as it swept by the big boulders that were embedded into its banks. She looked up at the Pennine Chain mountain range that stood far off into the distance on her other side, beyond the forests. Coming to a halt next to an exceptionally large boulder, she sighed and sat down on the edge of it. Leaning over and cupping her hands together, she placed them into the river's depths then withdrew them and took a drink. She loved the taste of the water from the river and wished longingly that she could go for a swim, but knew the current was too strong.

She sat there for a while longer as the sun slowly began sinking behind the mountains and a cool breeze began to blow. Standing up, she began walking back to the camp before night fell. Nearing the tents, still lost in her thoughts, she stepped too close to the bank and the soft earth beneath her feet gave way under her and she fell into the swift waters. She shrieked with shock as she was plunged into the icy cold water. The current quickly got a hold of her and dragged her below the surface, filling both her nose and mouth with water. She hated getting water up her nose, but, at the moment, this was the least of her fears. Coughing, she struggled to remain above the water, but was soon pulled under again.

She fought her way back up to the surface, but the cold water was making her back sear with pain. It was taking everything she had to keep her head above the water, and she knew she wouldn't easily be able to catch hold of one of the boulders. A few times, she tried to, but the strength of the river was too much for her and the boulders' surface was too wet; she slipped off before she could get a good grip. Terrified that she might drown, she yelled as loud as she could whenever she was above the water long enough to take a breath.

Harry was in his tent, looking for his wand, wondering where he lad misplaced it to when he heard Lavinia's cries for help. Dashing out, he looked around. Seeing her being helplessly pulled downstream, he took off at a run, trying to catch up to her; she was already several yards ahead of him.

"Harry," she spluttered as water poured into her mouth. "Help me!"

The desperation in her voice seemed to give him an extra burst of speed and he had soon passed her, looking for a safe place to pull her out. He finally spotted a dry rock that protruded out over the middle of the river and scrambled to get on it before the current swept Lavinia past it. Getting a good grip on the side of the rock, he leaned over as far as he could with his right hand and caught Lavinia's as she flung it out above her head. Her nails dug into his wrist as he tugged against the strength of the river to pull her out, but he hardly noticed. He was more concerned about getting Lavinia to safety than for his own comfort.

By now, Annika and Andrea had caught up with Harry, having heard Lavinia's cries as well, and were conjuring ropes with which to pull them both to safety. Andrea tied the end of the rope into a large loop, which she flung over Harry's head and around his chest. He quickly released his grip from the boulder and pulled his free arm through the loop as Annika and Andrea began pulling the other end. No longer needing to hold the rock for support, he swung his now free hand over the side and took Lavinia's other hand.

Finally, with tremendous effort, Annika and Andrea were able to pull Harry onto the grass and he, in turn, pulled Lavinia behind him.

Trembling with freight and shaking with cold, Lavinia collapsed onto the grass beside Harry, coughing. She was out of the water now, but the wind that blew made her feel even colder. It had taken every ounce of strength she had just to keep herself above the water's surface and then to hold onto Harry. Annika quickly conjured a heavy blanket and draped it over Lavinia before directing her wand to her daughter's robes. Instantly, a jet of hot steam began pouring from her wand tip and seemed to dry the robes in seconds.

Harry gently pulled Lavinia to her feet and began leading her back to the tent, Annika and Andrea next to them.

"Are you all right, Lavinia?" Harry asked as they walked. "You scared me for a minute there."

Still shivering, she answered, "Yeah, I'm okay." But just as she said this, a sharp pain shot down her spine and she winced. "I must have hit my back into one of the rocks." She glanced sideways at her mother, but she made no indication that she might know how she had really injured her back.

"We can take care of that once we've gotten you warmed up," Andrea said.

Harry began to lead her into the woman's tent, but Annika suggested she be taken to the main tent instead. Once there and out of the wind, Harry was asked to leave for a moment so they could get Lavinia changed into dry clothes. Once outside, he had an idea and walked quickly to his tent to collect the chess set. When he'd returned, Andrea poked her head out the entrance to tell him it was all right for him to come back inside. This was the first time he'd been inside this tent since he was in here with Hermione, and it kind of made him feel uneasy. But seeing Lavinia lying on the bed next to where Hermione had been, and watching as Annika performed the spell to realign her spine and the look of intense pain on Lavinia's face, Harry quickly got over his uneasiness and walked over to her.

Even with her spine back the way it should be, the pain remained, though it was reduced to a dull, constant ache. Lavinia gingerly turned over onto her back and looked up at Harry as Andrea walked over and gave her two potions, one a Pepperup Potion to help counteract the chill, and the other to help ease the pain..

"I hate for you to see me like this," she said, steam billowing from her ears because of the Pepperup Potion.

"Like what? Hurt? It's not your fault you fell in the river." Harry pulled up a chair, just as she had done the night before and sat down next to her.

"I should have been paying closer attention to what I was doing. It was careless of me." Harry shook his head and Lavinia laughed.

"What's so funny?" he asked, grinning.

"Oh, nothing really. Just some silly little quirk of mine. I've been a Healer for so long, it seems like whenever something happens to me, like I get sick or I cut myself or something, I can always heal it myself. I've always been independent and I've never really needed someone to help me before, to make me feel better. I'd always wondered what it'd feel like to have someone care for me like I do for my patients. And after what happened last night, you'd have been the last person I'd expect to be looking after me."

Harry smiled still more broadly. "It's my pleasure," he said. He then pulled out the chess set, "Care for a few games?"

Lavinia gasped when she saw his arm. His right wrist was bright red and bleeding in different areas, it looked almost like he had stuck it in a rose bush. "Harry, you're arm. Did I do that?" she asked, appalled.

Harry looked down at his hands. The sight of his scratched wrist came as somewhat of a shock to him. "Oh, I guess I was so worried about you that I forgot about that. It's all right, though. Don't fret about it." He smiled encouragingly at her when she still looked concerned.

It only took Andrea a minute to clean it up and heal it, then Harry and Lavinia were able to play a game of chess as they ate their dinner. Afterward, Annika suggested that Harry return to his tent so that Lavinia could get some rest.

"We can play again tomorrow," he said as he packed up the pieces. "Goodnight, feel better." He said good night to Annika and Andrea as well before leaving the tent.

Lavinia fell asleep almost as soon as he left, Annika having given her a combination of a pain reliever and a weaker form of a sleeping potion.

Harry, however, didn't feel even slightly tired though he too ached from the effort of the rescue. He merely lay in bed, staring up at the top of the tent. Somehow, he couldn't seem to get his mind off Lavinia, but he soon fell asleep listening to the soft chirping of the crickets outside.

For the next few weeks, Lavinia always made time during her busy day to get in at least one game of chess with Harry, even with the preparations that needed to be made to get ready for the upcoming winter months. It was usually either during breakfast or dinner, and sometimes even both, that they enjoyed this time together.

Sometimes they would simply eat and concentrate on the game, other times they would abandon it and just sit and talk. Harry still wished to take Lavinia flying and had been working on his magic - after she returned his wand - while she worked.

During breakfast one chilly September morning, they ate their bacon and eggs in the men's tent - Tobias had already been awake for a few hours and was out in the forest, chopping some wood, so they again had the tent to themselves. They both outwardly seemed absorbed in their game, but Lavinia couldn't quite focus, her mind just seemed to be elsewhere, and she noticed that Harry seemed preoccupied as well.

When they finally decided to abandon their game, they sat for a moment, finishing off their bacon, both still lost in their thoughts. When Harry spoke, Lavinia wasn't expecting it and she jumped slightly.

"Lately, I've been trying to perform some of the more basic spells, like those I learned in school, and I seem to be able to do them fine now. Have you got a broom around anywhere, so I could try and see if I can fly on it?"

Swallowing what was in her mouth, Lavinia said, "I think there may be one out in the back storage tent. I'm not sure how good it is, though, but you're welcome to use it."

"Thanks. Hey, and if I find I can fly it okay, would you like to go for a ride later tonight? We could pack up a picnic and fly up to the lake farther upstream. Andrea tells me it's a beautiful place for a picnic."

Lavinia thought about this for a moment, fidgeting with the material of her robes. Harry had noticed that she sometimes did this when aggravated or nervous. She twisted the cloth between her fingers, obviously fighting with herself over something. Harry thought she might be anxious about flying, since she'd never really done it before. Hoping he read her uncertainty accurately, he said, "Lavinia, if I find I can't fly just yet, we can do it another time. I would never knowingly endanger you; I'd only do this if I knew I could safely maneuver the broom."

She smiled up at him, "I know that." She sighed, but seemed to come to a decision, "Yeah, I guess it would be all right."

Lavinia gathered up their dirty dishes when they had finished and walked out of the tent. She placed them next to the main tent entrance in a tub of hot, soapy water along with the others to be cleaned. She flicked her wand at them and walked back to Harry as the scrub brush began scraping food residue off one of the plates.

She began making up Harry's bed, but he gently took the pillow out of her hands saying, "I can do that, it's my bed after all. I should be the one to straighten it up." He placed it back on the bed and smoothed out his blanket, walking around her to tuck the ends of the sheets under the mattress.

Lavinia just stood there watching him as he fluffed the pillow and folded the blankets back. She was used to doing things for other people and enjoyed it, so for someone to step in and offer to do it themselves came as an unexpected, but nonetheless pleasant shock.

Straightening up, Harry's eyes briefly met hers and for one fleeting moment, Harry felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her. So close had they become in the last two months that Harry could hardly stop himself as he stepped around the bed toward her. But at the last second, he seemed to snap back to his senses and quickly brushed the end of the bed, as if smoothing a last wrinkle, even though there wasn't one there.

Lavinia had seen the look in his eyes and guessed what his intent may have been, but she quickly hid her disappointment before saying, "I have a lot of work to do today. You go ahead and grab the broomstick from the storage tent, I'm sure no one would mind and I will see you around dinner."

"All right." Harry watched as she left the tent to go about her daily duties with a feeling of anticipation for what may happen later in the day if he finds he can still fly, but also with guilt for what he had almost just done. _Hermione died only two months ago_, he reminded himself. _And this is not the way to honor her memory, by seeking affection from another so soon._

Heaving a sigh of frustration for his contradictory feelings, he grabbed his jacket and left the tent to have a go on a broomstick.

(end of chapter 10)


	11. The Picnic

Chapter 11: The Picnic

Harry walked into the storage tent and looked around. Spotting what looked like a broom handle behind some old crates, he started shifting them. After moving aside a particularly heavy one, he caught his first glimpse of the rest of the broom. It looked like it had had a few nasty run ins with the Whomping Willow back at Hogwarts; the twigs in the tail were all sticking out at odd angles and the handle had a long split down the middle. Harry grimaced at the thought of what it would feel like to ride on it. He would get splinters stuck in the palms of his hands and the split would pinch his legs.

Harry looked around to see if there was a different one he could try, but with no such luck. Deciding that it was better than nothing, he walked over and picked up the broom at the safest part of the handle that he could find. At his touch, the broom quivered, as if it hadn't been ridden in quite a while and longed to be airborne. Harry smiled. He shared the same desire but was apprehensive about flying on this broom, it almost looked like it wouldn't support his weight, let alone his and Lavinia's.

Taking it out into a field behind the compound, he lay it in the grass and stood over it the same way he had the first time he had ever rode a broom, which was during his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He seemed to have mastered the art of flying with no instruction then, and hoped it would come back to him as easily now. Taking a deep breath, Harry stuck out his right hand, held it about waist high above the handle, and said, "Up!"

Half expecting nothing to happen, Harry was shocked when the broom suddenly jumped up into his outstretched fingers, as if he had jerked it up on invisible strings. He looked more closely at the handle before pulling out his wand with his free hand. Pointing it at the handle, wondering if it would do any good, he muttered, "_Reparo_." Instantly, the split in the middle sealed itself up, some of the splinters seemed to merge back into the rest of the wood in the handle, and most of the twigs in the tail straightened out. It still wasn't perfect, but it did look and feel much better than it had.

Harry, feeling much more confident now, quickly put his wand away and mounted the broom. He braced himself, then kicked off hard from the ground. The broom jerked a little upon take off, but then continued to climb smoothly upward, as if wanting to prove itself a reliable broom. Harry's spirits soared as he turned the handle this way and that, the wind whipping his hair. He was flying again.

Lavinia Apparated into Diagon Alley first thing that morning, they were almost out of Mrs. Skower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover and the camp's cauldron was in need of a good scrubbing. She also picked up a few ingredients to restock their potion supplies. By the time she'd finished cleaning and organizing the supplies and equipment in the main tent, it was nearing late afternoon. No longer able to keep her mind on what she was doing, for she had almost poured salamander's blood in with the pomegranate juice, Lavinia left the tent in search of the one thing that had been on her mind. She looked around the entire compound, but couldn't find Harry anywhere. She finally spotted him some fifty feet away, flying toward her from the direction of the lake.

As he neared and saw Lavinia watching his progress, a wide grin spread over his face; soon they would be on their way to a relaxing picnic at the spot he had just scoped out. Coming to a halt and dismounting next to her, Harry said, "I've still got it! I can still fly."

Smiling herself at the excitement in his voice, Lavinia said, "I see that. You do fly well." She looked down at the broom Harry still had clutched in his hand and her smile faltered. "Will that be able to support both of us?" she said, nervously.

Harry looked at the broom, too. "Oh, yeah," he said, reassuringly. "I know I haven't been flying on it for long, but I already know how it acts fairly well. We trust each other; you'll be perfectly safe on it. Are you ready?" Then, with enthusiasm she had never seen in him before, he added, "I've found the perfect place. Your mother actually suggested it, I don't know the area very well so I asked her where might be nice."

"Okay, yeah. Let me just go get my cloak." As she walked past him, toward the girls' tent, she caught his eye again, like they had that morning. Grabbing her cloak and the picnic basket she'd prepared earlier in the afternoon, she heaved a sigh. _This is it_, she thought.

Harry faced the broom in the direction they were headed and hitched the basket to the back of the broom, near the tail to even out the weight. He mounted the broom again and hovered it a few feet off the ground so that Lavinia could climb on behind him easier.

"Ready?" he asked, glancing back at her. Lavinia just nodded her head; she was determined not to freak out or show any sign of fear. She had learned long ago how to mask her fear, that showing it, no matter what the circumstances, was a sign of weakness.

"Hold on. Here we go." Lavinia grabbed hold of him around the waist as he took off slowly from the ground. The sun was already starting to sink behind the mountains and the wind that rushed past them was bitter cold. Lavinia was glad that she'd grabbed her cloak, but her fingers were quickly becoming numb. She chanced a glance at the lake up ahead then the river below, but quickly realized that wasn't such a good idea. She shut her eyes and turned her head closer to Harry's back, tightening her grip.

"Are you alright?" Harry yelled over the sound of the rushing wind.

"I'm fine," Lavinia called back into the material of his jacket, not opening her eyes.

"We're almost there," he yelled back. "It's not far now." Harry circled the edge of the lake as he descended and finally came to a stop near a big oak tree near its bank. Lavinia, who had now opened her eyes, relinquished her hold and scrambled off the end of the broom, happy to have her feet back on solid ground.

Harry untied the basket, pulling a large blanket from inside it and spreading in out for them to sit on as Lavinia took a look around. They were right next to the lake, the water gleaming in what light was left from the quickly disappearing sun behind them. She looked up and saw the twinkle of the first stars as they appeared in the steadily darkening sky, then behind her at the clouds, painted a magnificent red over the Pennine Chain Mountains. All around, she could hear the sounds of nature, either getting ready to go to sleep or just waking up.

"This place is beautiful!" she exclaimed. The tree they were under swayed as a gentle, but cold, wind brushed through it and Lavinia shivered slightly.

Harry finished setting out dinner and bewitching a few candles to float in the air above and around the blanket, then beckoned Lavinia over to sit with him and eat. They ate in silence as a pale, full moon began creeping across the now navy blue sky. Looking up at it, Lavinia noticed a faint red ring around the edges and she recalled being told once, a long time ago, that this signified that trouble was not far away, but never before had she actually seen this firsthand. She just stared at it for a moment, then shrugged the feeling of unease off.

Both again seemed lost in their own thoughts. Harry just sat, staring out over the lake, once in a while stealing a glance in Lavinia's direction as if he wanted to say something to her, but couldn't reserve himself to saying it. He really liked her, but was afraid she might not reciprocate his feelings and he didn't want to say anything to that effect if she indeed did not think of him that way. He felt, to do so, would make him look and feel like a complete idiot.

Lavinia, on the other hand, had different concerns on her mind; ones that she knew she could never share with Harry, even though she trusted him completely, which is something she very rarely did - trust. She was trying to prepare herself for what she knew had to be done, and it wasn't a very pleasant train of thought. She finally stood up, walked a few steps forward, then turned to face Harry.

"Is something wrong? You hardly ate anything?" Harry asked as she stood there, fidgeting with the side of her cloak.

"No, the food's fine, it's just that … well … Harry, I want to tell you something." He just looked at her with a slightly puzzled look on his face, so she went on, "I know it's only been two months since Hermione passed away, but I don't think I should keep this from you any longer." She paused and looked away.

"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning.

"Nothing's wrong, I just …uh…" she hesitated. Harry, unnerved by her nervousness, stood up and walked over to her. Having not heard him approach, Lavinia turned and found she was staring straight into his startling beautiful green eyes. Finally, what she was thinking suddenly burst from her before she could stop it. "I love you," she whispered. Then, realizing what she'd just blurted out and seeing the shocked look on Harry's face, she said, more loudly, "Oh, I shouldn't have told you. Forget I ever said it!" She turned from him, quickly hiding her steadily reddening face and started running along the lake shore.

It took a moment for what she'd said to sink into Harry's mind, but when it did, a wave of relief swept over him. _She loves me. She feels the same as I do_, he thought. _But, Hermione… _The thought passed as quickly as it had come. Yes, he had loved Hermione, but she was gone and wasn't coming back, and he knew she wouldn't have wanted him mourning her for the rest of his life. He hurriedly extinguished the candles and packed up the basket, but left the blanket where it was.

"Lavinia, wait!" he called as he took off after her. He finally caught up with her after a few minutes, her having gained somewhat of a lead in front of him. She was standing with her hand leaning on a large boulder at the foot of the tallest mountain, trying to catch her breath between sobs.

"Lavinia?" Harry called softly again as he slowed and began approaching her.

Keeping her back to him, she gasped, "It was selfish of me, what I said. I know you're not over her yet, I was just …being heartless." She broke off with a choked sigh.

"No, you weren't." He was standing right behind her now, but she still refused to budge. "It took a lot of heart and courage to say what you did. And to be honest," he gently turned her around to face him. She didn't resist, but she still wouldn't look at him either. "I love you, too."

Lavinia started to cry again, the tears pouring down her cheeks now. "Do you really?" she asked in a strangled voice, looking down at his feet.

Harry reached up and lifted her chin to where she was staring back into his eyes, and whispered, "Yes, I do." His hand still holding her chin, he slowly leaned down, as if testing the water to see if she would resist, and kissed her ever so gently on the lips.

But Lavinia did not resist, she closed her eyes as his warm lips touched hers and savored the sensation. Never in her life had she been kissed as passionately as this. He reached up with his free hand and ran his fingers through her strawberry blonde hair. He then moved the hand that had lifted her chin and wrapped it behind her back, drawing her closer.

When they finally broke apart, they both smiled at each other as Harry wiped away a tear that still lingered on Lavinia's cheek. As a cold wind swept past them, Harry looked around for a more sheltered location and saw, a little ways along, what looked like the mouth of a cave, partially hidden behind some overgrown bushes. He squeezed past the bushes then stood back to hold open a space for Lavinia to pass through. Once inside, they were met by a split in the cave, and Harry, deciding that it looked more secluded and inviting, led them into the left hand tunnel.

The light from the full moon shone in from between the bushes and lit both of their faces as they embraced each other again. The passion they both felt and their hot breath quickly warmed them up and flushed their faces. Lavinia stepped back and removed her cloak, then reached up and slipped Harry's jacket off his arms, throwing them both aside.

"Do you really love me, Harry?" Lavinia asked in a soft, seductive voice, leaning against him and looking up into his face

Harry smiled, "Truly."

"Huh…" Lavinia said, starting to unbutton his shirt. "Then you wouldn't mind proving it." She threw off his shirt then began pulling her robes up over her head. Underneath, she wore a thin, see-through black pair of undies and a matching bra with her nipples poking against the material due to the cold air.

Harry reached up and played with her hardened nipples a bit before reaching behind her and unhooking her bra. He pulled the straps off her shoulders and let it fall on the ground at their feet. Harry couldn't help but compare Lavinia's breasts to what he remembered about Hermione's; easily, Lavinia's were smaller, but that made no difference to him.

Lavinia gave him a few moments to look her body over, in which time Harry noticed a small, crescent moon shaped birthmark on her right hip, before curiosity got the best of her and she stepped forward to loosen his pants. She marveled at the sight of him and, almost cautiously, reached down to take hold of it, to feel it in her hands. She always wondered what one looked and felt like, and it came as a slight shock for her to realize it felt like nothing more than normal skin, as if she were touching his arm.

Harry watched her closely and it suddenly dawned on him - "Are you a virgin?" he asked, mildly surprised.

A pink flush tinged her cheeks. "Yes," she said, timidly, looking up at him. "Is it that obvious?"

"Just a little, but it's all right."

"Good," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him a few more times. "Because I no longer want to be a virgin."

Harry grinned.

(end of chapter 11)


	12. Faces Unmasked

Chapter 12: Faces Unmasked

Harry summoned the blanket used for their picnic to lay on the cave floor to make them more comfortable. As he spread it out, Lavinia gathered up their clothes and pushed them off to the side, toward the cave opening, then stowed Harry's wand in her robes pocket along with her own.

Harry laid down on the soft blanket in an alluring position and beckoned her over. She walked to him and kneeled, straddling his stomach. He rolled over onto his back, resting his weight on his elbows, as she placed her hands on the blanket above his shoulders and began kissing his neck and up onto his face. The black hairs around his waist tickled the exposed skin around her undies, arousing her.

Shifting his weight so that he was resting now on the upper part of his back, Harry reached his hands up and began running them into her hair and down the soft skin of her arms, back and buttocks. He then brought them around in front of him and felt his way down between her legs. She raised her butt slightly to allow him better access and he let his fingers slide slowly in and out of her folds.

The more aroused she became, the more forcefully she kissed him until he finally had to stop teasing her in order for her to realize she needed to ease up.

"Sorry," she whispered, breathlessly.

"No worries. Just … tone it down a bit, this isn't exactly the best surface to be doing this on."

She backed off him and he sat up, massaging his shoulders, for they had collided rather harshly a few times with the rocky floor. Seeing the look of guilt on her face, Harry smiled and said, "Hey, its okay. There's no permanent damage done, I'll be fine. Come over here."

She gave a small smile, stood and walked over to him. He removed her underwear and started fingering her again. She had never before felt anything like the sensations she was experiencing now as he slipped them in and out of her.

"How does that feel?" he asked. She let out a moan of pleasure in response.

Harry had her lay down on the blanket beside him and kept playing with her, whispering to her until she had peaked several times. The volume of his voice heightened along with hers.

"Oh, my god," she gasped. "I had never dreamed that it would be this wonderful … or tiring. Hermione was one lucky girl to have had a guy like you." At these words, Harry felt a pang of guilt and, for a second, he thought that he had heard Hermione's voice yelling his name from a distance. He stopped for a moment, straining his ears to listen, but he didn't hear it again. He thought for a second that it had been his conscience, telling him what he was doing was wrong, and it must have shown across his face. "I'm sorry," Lavinia said. "I shouldn't have…"

"No, its okay." Harry still couldn't brush off his feelings of guilt, but at the same time, he knew he must have imagined her voice.

Lavinia's eyes wandered, looking for something to cheer him up, and came to rest on his manhood again. "May I?" she asked, quickly bringing Harry back to reality. She took hold of him again but didn't do anything, at first. "But, now, what can I do to pleasure you?" she asked.

"Just touch it, feel it, play with it. Just like what I did to you. You can't do anything wrong."

Still unsure of herself, she just started feeling her way around, exploring every nook and cranny, trying different things. She ran her fingertips up and down, then circled around his tip. She then tried using her nails, to see if the feel of them would excite him more and, judging by his reaction, found that it did.

"Spit into your hands," Harry suggested. She looked up at him with her brow furrowed in confusion, so he explained, "The moisture will help cut down on the friction I'm beginning to feel."

She did and was shocked to discover her saliva did make it easier. Then, suddenly, as something new occurred to her, Lavinia stopped.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Well, I was just thinking … I never pictured a man's organ to be this large. Will it fit? Won't it hurt?"

Harry just laughed. "It'll fit. That's why I worked so hard to make you wet down there, it will ease my passage and I will just slip inside you. And I've heard that, for a woman's first time, it does hurt a little because there is a thin layer of skin up in there that I basically have to rip through. But, don't worry," he added, because her eyes had widened in, what was it? Fear? He had never seen her express that before now. "I'll be gentle."

Lavinia reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "All right, I trust you. I'm ready to give it a try."

Harry got over her and started kissing her again while playing with her to make her moist again. Lavinia still felt slightly nervous, despite her arousal, because she did not deal well with pain of any kind, she'd been subjected to so much of it throughout her entire life, physically and emotionally. But she knew that whatever discomfort she may feel is not intentional on Harry's part. And she did feel slightly better since he had explained this to her and she knew he wouldn't be doing any of this if she wasn't ready.

He kissed her gently, passionately, encouragingly as he slowly leaned forward and slipped inside her. The discomfort she did feel wasn't nearly as bad as she had imagined and she smiled up at Harry to tell him to keep going. The next few hours had soon passed in what seemed like minutes. Taking a break for both of them to catch their breath, Harry glanced at his watch. It was already one in the morning.

He saw Lavinia moving behind him, his back to the cave entrance, but made no notice of what she was doing until he turned and saw her pulling her robes back over her head. "Are we finished? Do you want to head back to the camp already?"

Lavinia said nothing for a moment, but instead did something very strange. She backed up, into the mouth of the cave and sent sparks into the night air. Almost instantly, as if they'd been waiting for that sign, two masked figures dressed in long, black robes Apparated on either side of Harry, each grabbing one of his arms.

"What the hell?" Harry yelled in anger. "Lavinia? What is this about?" She didn't respond. "Lavinia?" he repeated, quietly.

One of the Death Eaters let out a cruel laugh and Harry noticed that the eyes he could see through the mask seemed familiar somehow; cold. Reaching up with the other hand, still clutching a wand, Harry watched as the captor on his left removed the mask. He gasped in disbelief as the dark red brown hair and aged face of Annika emerged from under the black hood of her robes.

"You?!" Harry shouted. "You're a Death Eater? Why are you doing this? What's going on?" He glanced back at Lavinia. She just stood there, leaning against the wall, fiddling with her robes.

Annika looked down at Harry's still nude body, a satisfied smirk appearing across her face. "Lavinia, bring him his pants." Then turning back to Harry, she added, "Show some decency in the presence of a woman, Potter. And I'm not refering to her," she jerked her head in Lavinia's direction as she handed Harry his pants. "She's already seen you and probably done more than that, the little slut."

Annika and the other Death Eater released Harry for a moment to allow him to pull on his pants, but kept their wands pointing at his chest. It wasn't until they were on that Harry realized his wand had been taken out of his pocket.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked again, staring at Lavinia as Annika and the other Death Eater took hold of his arms again and he struggled against their grip.

It was Annika who answered. "To lure you in, of course. To kill you. This was all simply part of an elaborate scheme to get even with you for the death of the Dark Lord all those years ago." She smiled up at Lavinia. "My daughter played a magnificent little actress, don't you think? I had to keep her in line a few times, though. She isn't quite as devoted to our master as we are, you see."

Harry was enraged, he could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Why didn't you just kill me before now? You've had plenty of opportunities these past two months."

Annika and the masked Death Eater laughed derisively again. "This was our way of torturing you," Annika smirked. "Sure, the Dark Lord's ways were effective, but this was more fun. Destroying your life and messing around with your emotions."

"What do you mean 'destroying my life'?" Harry asked. "How could you poss-" then a thought struck him. _No_, he thought. _No, it couldn't be_. "Hermione," he said slowly. "_You _killed her. _You _gave her the potion that went wrong!" His temper was reaching the boiling point. How _dare _they!

Annika and the still masked Death Eater laughed horribly again. Lavinia, however, showed no sign of pleasure.

"Hate to break it to you, Potter," Annika said. "But, your beloved Hermione isn't dead. She's here, in fact. With Masters Lucius and Draco Malfoy." Harry gaped at her, his mind still refused to register what his ears were clearly telling it. This whole thing was just so farfetched. Annika laughed again. "Oh, don't worry, she's quite safe. Well, as far as living goes, but as for her emotional or psychological well being," she shrugged, "who knows. I'm sure they've both been having a lot of fun with her, just like we have with you. You see, you've both had your uses."

"But … but," Harry stuttered. "I watched her die. Lavinia gave me her ring. But not her ashes," he added, quietly, thoughtfully. "I wondered about that."

"You only _thought _you saw her die. Have you ever heard of the Draught of Living Death?"

Harry nodded. "A long time ago, but I remember. It's an extremely powerful sleeping potion." He knew they were mere moments from killing him or dragging him to Lucius Malfoy so that he could. So he tried to keep them talking as long as possible until he could think of a plan of escape. "But then what about the poison that was in that vial? How were you able to counteract it?"

"Oh, yes. The poison. It was very destructive, as we told you. We couldn't use anything less, otherwise it would have made the other Healers suspicious. We had to keep them fooled as much as you. But we already had the antidote ready. We didn't really want her killed just yet, but we did want to make you believe so."

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay, so you didn't kill her, but then what did you do with her?"

"After Lavinia practically dragged you into the men's tent to get you out of the way, Andrea and I carried Hermione into the back storage tent behind which we were going to cremate the body, or so she thought. I then convinced Andrea that I could handle it on my own. Once she was out of sight, I gagged Hermione, tied her hands and gave her the restorative potion."

"She struggled at first, once she realized what I really was, but a few doses of pain does wonders on a person's cooperation skills. We walked upstream in the rain for a while until we came to another, smaller tent, set up for us. We went inside and waited. I thought I'd be nice and I removed her gag; even if she tried to scream, no one would have heard her."

"Then, after a few minutes, Lucius came to collect her."

(end of chapter 12)


	13. Special Delivery

Chapter 13: Special Delivery

Hermione looked around as they entered the tent, it was a very small space that stood completely empty. The rain continued to pound on the roof of the tent. Annika removed her gag but Hermione knew it would do her no good to scream out for help; the surrounding area was almost completely deserted, and Muggles stood no chance against those people who held her captive.

Soon, she heard a small popping noise outside the tent and the squish, squish of footsteps approaching them through the mud. She looked up at the entrance as a dark figure stepped into it, blocking out what little light had been flooding in. As the figure continued inside and the light began to seep back through, it fell on the sleek, blonde white hair and pale, pointed face of Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione gasped as Lucius sneered down at her, a mixture of demented pleasure and disgust showing across his face. He took a few steps closer to her, but she backed away. Fear and anger swelled within her as she stared determinedly into his grey, stone cold eyes. Clearly, the events of five years earlier of the death of his master, Lord Voldemort, and the near death of his only son, Draco, hadn't softened him in the least. In fact, unless she was much mistaken, it seemed to Hermione that even more hatred than usual blazed within his eyes at the sight of her.

He took another step toward her while he looked her up and down. His eyes came to rest on her left hand, at the golden ring that rested on her second finger and, recognizing what it was, he rounded on Annika. "You fool!" he hissed. "Why didn't you remove the ring? You could have given it to Potter to make it more believable that she was dead."

It came as a shock to Hermione that Annika did not recoil in fear, but rather stood up to him, something that most others wouldn't have dared. "How was I to know that's what that ring was for? I've never been proposed to! Certainly not by you."

Lucius's lip curled in anger. "Take it and bring it to Potter, and don't screw up again."

Annika, mumbling to herself, pulled off the ring and stuffed it into the pocket of her robes.

"Now get back to the Healer's camp and make sure your daughter does what she was told. I will have no more tolerance for mistakes." Annika shot Lucius a dirty look then turned on the spot and was gone.

Hermione looked desperately around for an escape, but she couldn't see a way out of this. It was now only her and Lucius. She knew how cruel a person he could be, but wasn't exactly sure what he was capable of or what he wanted with her. Why did they want Harry to think she was dead? Was he going to kill her?

Lucius continued to stare at her, a strange look in his eyes, then reached into his robes and pulled out a small, glass bottle containing a light blue potion that swirled within, almost like it was the contents of a heavy fog. "Open your mouth, Granger," he commanded, opening the bottle. Hermione just glared at him. "I said," he drawled, "open your mouth." When she still refused, he pulled out his wand and pointed it menacingly at her. One glance at the wand and she recognized it as her own, but where had he gotten it from? "I will not say it again, girl. It would be in your best interest to cooperate." Still giving him a 'go to hell' look, she slowly cracked her mouth. Before it was even completely open, he stuffed the mouth of the bottle between her lips and poured in the potion. "Now swallow." Almost instantly, she started feeling groggy.

Two figures suddenly Apparated next to Lucius and crossed behind her, each taking hold of one of her arms as she felt herself begin to sway, her mind becoming foggy. They started to carry her to the tent entrance, but she blacked out before they even got outside.

Hermione kept her eyes closed, she still felt extremely drowsy and her head drooped. She could feel herself being dragged along and the rain pouring down upon her, but it seemed like her brain wouldn't work, she couldn't speak and could hardly hear anything around her. As her mind began to clear, she cracked open her eyes and slightly lifted her head. Through the wall of rain, she could vaguely make out a dark figure striding ahead of her and the two people holding her and knew it must be Malfoy.

As they walked, a large mountain suddenly loomed out of the darkness. Approaching the foot of the mountain, she watched as two overgrown bushes swam into view and saw the mouth of a cave, partially hidden, behind them.

Hermione was beginning to feel drowsy again but she forced herself to remain conscious. Her captors didn't bother to hold the bushes aside as they pushed past them and the branches scratched her face. Entering the right side of the cave that branched out into two tunnels, it turned right and widened into a large, stone floor room.

The cave was damp and dark, except for a handful of torches that lined the far walls some hundred feet from the cave entrance. Lucius held up his hand and the two figures holding Hermione stopped halfway along the tunnel, but Lucius kept walking until he was beyond the light of the torches.

Squinting through the darkness, Hermione watched as Lucius stopped next to another, shorter figure. They talked for a moment, in which time she distinctly saw them both turn their heads in her direction. She could not hear what they were saying but did see as Lucius lifted his wand and pointed it at her. Instantly, she felt her clothes being ripped from her body, leaving her standing there, completely exposed. This very quickly snapped her out of her stupor and she immediately felt her face burning with humiliation.

Glancing around in embarrassment, she noticed, for the first time, that the two people holding her both wore Death Eater hoods. She saw their eyes move up and down beneath their masks, looking her over, then exchange a meaningful glance. She had a nasty suspicion that they were grinning.

Hermione struggled to cover herself up with her arms, but the ropes binding her hands were too tight and the Death Eaters' holds were too strong. The best that she could do was to try to cover her breasts with her upper arms. She was still soaking wet from the walk through the rain and she shivered slightly from the chilling dampness of the cave.

Seeing movement ahead of her, she looked up to see a dark figure walking toward her, the other remained in the shadows. Hermione felt a horrible, sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as the figure got closer, finally entering into the light from the torches. It was Draco, his eyes also looking her over. Within those cold eyes that equaled his father's, Hermione could see intrigue and hunger.

Lucius motioned for the two restraining her to back away. She could feel her insides burning with anger, shame and even fear as Draco drew nearer and began circling around her. She tried to back away, keeping a close watch on Draco, but Lucius called across the cave.

"Stand still, Granger."

Hermione glared across at Lucius, but he raised the wand in warning and she reluctantly remained where she was.

Draco smiled as he slowly circled her, taking in her softly contouring body. She was more that he could have ever hoped for, better than he had ever dreamed. He wanted to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin, but he was hesitant. Yes, he had wanted her for his own, but he didn't want her delivered to him like this. He wanted her to come to him willingly.

Lucius noticed his hesitation to touch her. "Go on, Draco. This is what you desired, is it not?"

Stopping behind her, Draco placed his hands on her shoulders and slid them down her arms. "Very nice," he said, softly, so that only she could hear. Hermione tensed in suppressed anger at his touch and he quickly let go, as if he had just been burned.

Walking back around her, he reached up, as if to touch her again, but instead he loosened and removed her bindings. As soon as they were off, she quickened to cover her breasts with one arm and held the other hand in front of her legs to hide herself.

Draco lifted his hands again to touch her face, but Hermione jerked her head out of the reach of his outstretched fingers. From outside the torch light, she heard Lucius clear his throat to remind her not to move and she slowly turned her head back to face Draco.

Draco glanced sideways, at his father standing behind him with what looked to Hermione to be a scowl on his face. He turned back to her, their eyes meeting, and Hermione saw, for the first time ever, a genuine apologetic gleam in his eye, as if he regretted what he was doing or was about to do.

His quickly averted his eyes and they came to rest, instead, on her partially hidden breasts. He took her elbow in his hand and tried to move it. Hermione was shocked by how gentle he was being, but she refused to let her arm budge. The harder he tried, the more she resisted.

"Move your arm," Lucius drawled. Hermione glanced at him over Draco's shoulder, but did not lower her arm. He raised his eyebrow and wand in final warning and hissed, tersely, "I am losing my patience, girl."

Glaring at the both of them, for she dared not say a word for fear of what Lucius and possibly even Draco might do, she finally let her hand fall at her side.

Draco's eyes instantly snapped to her nipples, which had hardened in the cold air of the cave, despite the heat outside. His hands inched toward them, clearly longing to touch them, but at the last moment, when his fingers were mere inches from them, he stopped and looked back into her eyes.

She stood there, silently pleading with him, completely aware that he could not hear her. But he seemed to have read it deep within her eyes and he backed away, making no further attempt to touch or approach her.

Hermione stared at him, disbelievingly. _He's not going to do anything_, she thought. _But why?_

She gaped after him as he walked away, past his father. Lucius looked livid. "After everything I did to bring her to you, you're just going to walk away and do nothing?!" he screamed.

Draco said nothing, nor did he acknowledge in any other way that his father had spoken, but just kept walking until Hermione could no longer make him out in the darkness.

"You disgust me, Draco," he hissed. Then, turning his attention back to Hermione he said, "Fine, if you won't take advantage of this opportunity," he started walking forward, "I will."

He started undoing the buttons on his robes as he approached her. Her fiery temper flaring up despite her situation, she yelled, "Get away from me, you bastard!" She tried to run, but the Death Eaters standing behind her grabbed her and pulled her back in front of Lucius. She struggled to get out of their grasp.

Lucius laughed viciously. "I admire your audacity, but don't bother trying to escape." He pulled open the front of his robes, underneath which he wore nothing, and grabbed her shoulders. Hermione had a brief glimpse of a small, crescent moon shaped birthmark on his hip before the Death Eaters backed off again and he pushed her roughly to the cave floor.

Hermione fought against him with all her might, but he was too strong. He sat on her legs to pin them down and grabbed her arms and held them up over her head. Leaning forward, he took one of her nipples in his mouth and played with it for a moment.

Hermione stared resolutely up at him, determined not to react in any way to his touch, not that it required much of an effort. "Is this supposed to be turning me on?" she asked.

Lucius released her nipple and looked into her face, a smirk spreading over his. "No, but it certainly is me." Sure enough, Hermione could see the effect it was having on him; the demented pleasure shone again within his eyes. He bent back down and recaptured her nipple with his teeth. She screamed in pain as he bit down hard then did the same to the other one.

Backing off her legs, he spread them open with his knees and forced his way inside her. Since she'd refused to be affected by his touch, she had not become moistened down between her legs and he did not slide in smoothly. He roughly pushed himself deeper and deeper inside her with each plunge he made until she was wriggling underneath him, fighting to get away, to make the pain stop. But he did not stop.

Soon, her screams of both pain and anger filled the entire cave.

Draco had walked far down into the cave tunnel, trying not to see or hear what he knew his father was doing to her, but no matter how far he went, he could not escape the sounds that echoed and were intensified off the cave walls. Mixed in with Hermione's shouts, he could also hear his father's cries of pleasure and the sound of his movement within her. It was this more than anything that sickened him, and he had no control as he staggered into the cave wall and vomited.

As he was recovering, he looked up to see his father stand and close his robes, apparently having had his enjoyment for the night. He glanced in Draco's direction before walking away, leaving him alone with Hermione. He turned another corner at the far end of the tunnel and disappeared from sight.

(end of chapter 13)


	14. Internal Struggle

Chapter 14: Internal Struggle

Hermione just laid there, completely exhausted from the effort of trying to fight Lucius off, tears of humiliation flowing down her cheeks. It was a mortifying feeling to be held down while someone had their way with her and to have three other people just stand by and watch. What made it even worse was that she was surrounded by no one but her enemies. If she hoped to escape, she would have to rely only on herself. But without a wand, how would she manage that?

She also felt guilty. How could she allow herself to be captured so easily? Why didn't she put up more of a fight when that _Healer _had forced her to walk to the tent? She could easily have run, that old woman wouldn't have been able to keep up with her.

All these thoughts swam wildly within her mind. She looked around her and saw the two Death Eaters standing guard by the cave entrance. There was no way she could get by them. She then looked in the other direction and saw that Draco had gone. Rolling over onto her side, she tried her best to cover herself up before closing her eyes. Surely she would hear if anyone tried to approach, and she would be ready.

She wondered what was happening with Harry. If he truly believed her dead, she couldn't imagine the pain and anguish he must be feeling. And what was that, what was she? A Healer, a Death Eater? What was she doing, her and her daughter? Hermione thought it best not to think about it. Even though it caused her sorrow to ignore his situation, she knew there was nothing she could do to help Harry, or to prove to him that she was still alive.

As tears of grief began to flow down her cheeks again, she suddenly felt footsteps vibrating through the stone floor and heard as someone approached. Sitting bolt upright, but still careful to cover herself, she watched as Draco drew nearer to her. He was carrying something, but she made no notice of it.

He walked right up to her and looked down at her. She stared determinedly up at him, making certain to portray her hatred of him across her face, but was curious to find him looking at her tear stained face rather than her nude body.

"Have you come to rape me as well?" she asked, bitterly.

Still staring, now straight into her eyes, Draco didn't answer right away, then simply said, "No." He put what he was holding down next to her.

Hermione scoffed. "Why should I believe you?" she asked in cold fury. "Don't act like I'm stupid. You are no different from him," she said, refering to Draco's father.

In an instant, Draco bent down and seized her wrist. Wincing in pain at his grip, Hermione looked back into his eyes. The anger that she then saw within them was like none she had seen there before. It was this manic anger that frightened her now as he spoke in a furious whisper.

"_Never _compare me with my father! I was not the one who raped you just now, was I?"

He violently shook her wrist; so much was she scared by him right then that she feared he _would _take advantage of her, or else hurt her out of pure spite. As the tears began to form again, his demeanor suddenly changed again and he released her.

Picking up the bundle he had been carrying, he hastily draped a blanket over her shoulders and placed a pillow on the ground next to her. He also put down in front of her a small bowl of bread and some kind of soup. She pulled the blanket closer around her but, despite her hunger, was cautious about accepting the food.

She eyed Draco suspiciously as he stood up. "Don't fret, its not poisoned." He then walked away without a second glance.

Rounding the corner Lucius had disappeared behind, Draco came face to face with his father. Lucius was enraged and slapped Draco across the face. "As I said before, Draco, you disgust me!" he spat. "I saw what you just did. Others might call that kindness, but I call it weakness." He shoved a potion bottle into Draco's hands. "Go give this to her."

Draco looked at the bottle. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's a potion to inhibit her magical abilities so that she can't Disapparate. Go!"

Draco turned around and started walking back toward Hermione. She had the blanket tucked under and around her and was lying with her head resting on the pillow. As he neared, she looked up.

"I was told to give this to you," he said, handing her the bottle but not looking at her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Just take it," he replied curtly. After she'd finished drinking its contents, he took back the bottle. Looking down, he also saw that the soup was gone. He smiled discretely to himself before bending down and picking up the empty bowl.

As he went to walk away, he heard Hermione quietly say, "Thank you."

He stopped a few feet away from her. "Uh, yeah. Sure," he mumbled, then continued back down the tunnel.

Hermione rolled over onto her side again. This was a side of Draco she had never seen before, a soft, caring side.

For the next few weeks, it became daily routine that Hermione was forced, by mainly Draco and sometimes Lucius, to drink the potion and, though she knew not what it contained, she knew she didn't like the way it made her feel. But she couldn't quite put her finger on it; it was like an empty, worthless feeling, like there was something missing inside her. Not physically, like she was missing an organ, but it seemed like she had less and less of - whatever it was - each day. She also disliked not being able to wash herself up, she was covered in dirt and sometimes sweat and it make her feel disgusting.

The darkness of the cave disoriented her, she could barely distinguish day from night and very quickly lost track of how long she had been held captive there.

Hermione also started to notice that red patches began to shine brightly on Draco's face, though he attempted to hide them from her; but she could hear it whenever Lucius struck him.

Toward the beginning, Lucius' ravishing came daily as well, if not more often than that. Draco would always head toward the back of the cave when his father started and would not be seen again until well after he'd finished. It seemed that with each consecutive time, Lucius' treatment of her became rougher and rougher, until her physical pain alone seemed not to satisfy him.

He then started calling her names, and taunting her. "What's the matter, whore, am I not good enough for a Mudblood like you? Is Potter the only one man enough for you?" "There's no way you're getting out of this. You are going to be my little sex slave for the rest of your life or until I become bored with you and decide to kill you."

At one point, one of the comments he made infuriated her so much that she ripped her fist out of his grasp and belted him square in the mouth. Dazed by the force of the blow, Lucius' grip loosened and she was able to break away. She started running, full out, across the cave. Before she'd even gotten half way to the entrance, she heard him shouting behind her.

"You little bitch!"

She whipped around to look behind her in time to see him vanish. But before she had turned her head back, she collided hard with something in front of her and fell backward. She looked up and saw Lucius standing over her, his face contorted with rage.

Lucius sneered down at her as he reached inside his still open robes, pulled out her wand and pointed it down at her. "_Crucio_!"

She screamed in pain as she felt the sensation of a million red-hot knives piercing her flesh and into her bones. She had felt this before, but now it seemed worse, like his anger was stoking the fire in which she burned.

Lucius laughed savagely as he watched her twist and writhe in agony at his feet. He lifted the curse after a few minutes, and she just lay there, panting.

"You see now what powers I hold over you?" he asked, scathingly as the tears poured down her cheeks.

She looked up at him. "Are you going to kill me?" she gasped, trying desperately to catch her breath.

Lucius smirked. "Not yet. What you just felt was only a taste. No. You will see your _beloved_-" he sneered as he put huge emphasis on the word "-Harry again. However," his grin quickly vanished and was replaced with a look of cold fury as he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, "strike at me again and you may not be sane enough to recognize him when you do!

"Get up!" he hissed. Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her back toward the end of the cave. She stumbled in his grasp and scraped her knee on the stone floor, but he paid no attention. When he threw her on the floor, she bumped the same knee and it smarted.

Hermione knew she had gone too far and was now going to pay for her attempted bid for freedom.

It seemed that his use of the Cruciatus Curse on her had not only relieved his anger, but excited him as well. Just for the fun of it, he used it a few more times before taking advantage of her again.

That night, her whole body ached. Her knee was covered in blood from where she'd scraped it and she couldn't get comfortable, as comfortable as she could laying naked on a cold, hard, stone floor. She tossed and turned for hours but finally fell asleep as the first rays of the morning sun reflected off the cave wall.

She had noticed that, as of late, Draco had taken to leaning against the cave wall not far from where she slept. She knew he didn't do this any other time, because she had woken up a few times during the night to find him dozing against the wall, only to jerk awake, see that she was awake, then walk away. This puzzled her and she would often fall back to sleep, wondering why he did this.

One morning, after another restless night, Hermione was awoken by the soft singing of birds perched on the bushes outside the cave entrance. She kept her eyes closed and just listened. So much did she envy those birds and their freedom.

It was a moment before she noticed two things that stuck her as odd. First, she was lying on her back shoulders; this was how she normally slept, but recently she had taken to sleeping on her chest as a means of shielding herself from Lucius' unwanted touch while she was most vulnerable.

_Maybe_, she thought, _I've been rescued. Maybe Harry discovered the truth and came while I slept to carry me away. Or maybe, _she thought even more desperately_, everything I remember about the past month was all some sort of horrific nightmare that I just now managed to wake myself up from._

This thought came to her mainly because she also noticed that someone was, very gently, stroking her hair. So softly, in fact, that it had taken her a minute before she even realized it. Still, she kept her eyes closed, wishing, wanting for her thoughts to be true, that she really was again with her beloved Harry, that he was soothing her, reassuring her that everything was okay.

However, something in her fantasy wasn't quite right because she had just heard the sound of shuffling feet off in the near distance. She opened her eyes and was instantly snapped back to her gruesome reality as the hand that had been caressing her hair was withdrawn. She looked up and found herself staring, not into the green eyes of Harry, but into a pair of baby blues that were devoid of their usual malice and instead seemed to glow with a kind of warmth Hermione had never seen in them before.

As he stood and hurried away without a word, Hermione suddenly knew without a doubt that Draco Malfoy was not her enemy.

(end of chapter 14)

_**Please give me some reviews. It doesn't matter if they are good or bad, I just want to know what you think!**_


	15. Changes

Chapter 15: Changes

A few days after her failed attempt to escape, Hermione woke up with a dull ache around her hips. She groaned as she tried to find a position that relieved some of the discomfort. It was then that she felt a wet spot. Sitting up and looking over the blanket she found a small, red stain.

_My blood of the moon is late, _she thought. _That certainly explains my temper that night._

Lucius was the one who brought her the inhibitor potion that day. As he neared, he saw the stain and sensed the smell. He wrinkled his nose in disgust but made no attempts to rape her, for which she was grateful.

Later that day, Draco came with some food. After he put it down for her, she asked, "What phase is the moon in?"

Draco looked at her with a curious expression. "It's to be full tomorrow. Why?"

"Just wondering." As he walked away, she thought, _I never get it this late, it's usually around the half or even last quarter that I do. It must be the strain I've been under._

Lucius' cruelty toward Hermione gradually worsened over the next month, in which time she started to realize that her resistance was futile. No matter how hard she fought against Lucius, he was still able to overpower her. Eventually, she stopped trying completely and would just lay there, trying her best to block it out when he ravished her; this seemed to be her only defense against him.

Once he was finished, she wouldn't even move or try to hide herself. By now, she had long lost any hope of escape or rescue; now she felt nothing, her senses, emotions, mind and body were numb and blank.

Draco still brought her food, but she started eating less and less until she just didn't want it anymore. Nothing mattered, why should she care? Lucius had won; he had beaten her physically, psychologically and emotionally.

After he had taken back the bowl that had remained untouched for the third time that week, Draco rounded the corner where their comfortable little living space was and saw Lucius sitting at the table reading the _Daily Prophet_. He emptied the contents of the bowl, not looking at his father, then asked, "Do you want me to take her the potion?"

Lucius, not looking up from his paper, replied lazily, "Don't bother. She hasn't the strength or will to resist me lately. I doubt she's even got enough magic left in her to transfigure a fly."

Draco's insides burned with anger and hatred toward his father. "Why are you doing this?" he burst out, angrily. "What's the point? She's not going anywhere, so why don't you just leave her alone?"

Lucius stared at his son for a moment, a look of utmost loathing in his eyes, then was up out of his chair and across the room before Draco had even moved an inch. He grabbed the front of his shirt, lifted him off his feet and slammed him into the cave wall. Draco struggled under his father's hold.

"Now you listen to me, boy! What I do with my property is _my _business!" he shouted. "Need I remind you that she was meant for you? But you're a coward, you weren't even enough of a man to claim your prize. If I didn't need you, I would kill you now, regardless of blood." Draco continued to struggle, he was beginning to have trouble breathing. Then Lucius suddenly released him and he crumpled on the floor, gasping for air. He stood up but had to lean on the wall for support. Lucius glared at him for a moment, then decked him.

Draco cried out in pain, holding his hand over his left eye. "May that stand as a reminder to you _never _to condescend me again. Now, you will watch what I do and will later be expected to do the same." Lucius grabbed hold of his arm and practically dragged him around the corner and halfway across the cave.

Hermione had backed herself against the cave wall and just sat there with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly as they approached. Suddenly, she heard raised voices coming from the far end of the cave, near the entrance. She thought for a second that she'd recognized one of the voices as Harry's, and called out his name. How could it be? But before she could listen for a reply, Lucius released Draco and walked over to her. He grabbed the top of her hair and yanked it back, almost to touch the ground. Hermione winced in pain and tried to pry his hands out of her hair.

"Your beloved is not here," Lucius chortled. "Are you ready for more punishment, bitch?" He pulled her away from the wall by her hair and pinned her down, spreading her legs wide to give him easier access. Again, Hermione didn't bother trying to fight him off, but glanced over his shoulder at Draco, standing a ways off. He looked away, but not before she saw the bruise that had already begun to form around his left eye. She truly felt sorry for him and couldn't help as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Once Lucius had relieved himself, he turned to Draco. "Now, its your turn."

Draco stared resolutely back at him. He simply refused to do what his father commanded. "No," he said, quietly.

"What did you say?" Lucius hissed, bearing down on him.

"I said NO!" Draco yelled.

Lucius remained expressionless. "Oh, yes. You will," he said quietly. Pulling out Hermione's wand he pointed it at his son and said, "_Imperio_."

Instantly, Draco felt his mind go blank as it was wiped of all thought and emotion. He was under his father's complete control, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Hermione stared up at Draco, into his eyes that were now devoid of any and all warmth. And for the first time in nearly a month, she felt a wave of fear and anger pass through her. How could Lucius do this to his own son?

As Lucius coerced Draco to remove his clothing and throw them aside, Hermione watched as the end of his wand slipped partially out of his pants pocket. _If only I could get to that_, she thought. But before she'd even begun formulating a plan, Draco was on top of her.

"Draco, snap out of it!" she yelled as she struggled to get away, but, like his father, he was too strong. "Please stop!"

Lucius smiled in sick pleasure as he forced Draco to do outrageous things to her. He held her arms down at her side and bent his face down between her legs, licking and sometimes biting her.

Lucius had never done this and she found herself secretly enjoying it, though she made sure not to let it show, for if Lucius knew she liked it, he would surely put an end to it.

He then made Draco hold both her wrists up over her head with one hand while forcing the fingers of the other up inside her. The more he used, the more it hurt, until Hermione let out a scream of pain and began crying as he started inserting four, then five.

Suddenly, Draco's thoughts began to return, he could still hear his father's commands in the back of his mind, but his own thoughts and emotions were forcing their way through. He felt guilty for what he was doing. He knew it was not of his own free will, but he was still ashamed that he hadn't been able to throw off his father's Imperius Curse earlier. He loved Hermione, and it was her cry of grief that had allowed him to gain back some degree of control.

Hermione had also noticed a change in him, the warmth in his eyes had returned. He gave her the smallest of winks to let her know he was again in control and she pointedly shifted her gaze to his pants pocket, where his wand still poked out. Chancing a quick glance to his side, he saw it too and knew what she was thinking.

Hermione then began trying to wriggle away from Draco, to make Lucius believe she was fighting to get away. She inched closer as Draco slipped inside her. She knew he didn't want to, but also knew that he had to give the illusion that he was still under his father's control. Hermione felt him spill into her just as they reached his crumpled pants. She knew he too was enjoying this, that he'd wanted her for some time, otherwise he would never have gotten aroused enough to ejaculate.

Lucius realized what their intention was, but too late. Draco grabbed the end of his wand and pointed it at his father before Lucius even had the chance to respond. "_Expelliarmus_!" Draco shouted, but the hatred and anger that he felt gave enormous power and strength to the spell and it knocked Lucius into the far wall. As he slid down, a trail of blood smeared the wall behind him and spilled onto his robes, staining them red. There was no doubt in either of their minds, Lucius was dead.

They heard shouting behind them. As the voices echoed off the walls, they were intensified so much that it sounded as if a whole army of Death Eaters were charging at them rather than just two. Draco whipped around and shouted, "_Stupify! Stupify_!" aiming at each one in turn, and they fell to the ground, stunned.

Hermione stood up, but wobbled on weak legs. She slowly walked over and picked up her wand, which had flown a few feet from where Lucius' body lie. She tried to summon her clothes, but nothing came.

Draco had put his clothes back on and turned to her. He smiled at her look of frustration and said, "Here, allow me. _Accio clothes_!" From the back came soaring the mended jeans and shirt she'd worn two months previously, clearly Draco had kept them well hidden. She pulled them on, but found they were too big. She hadn't realized how much weight she'd lost from not eating for so long.

"Let's get you out of here, those two will be waking up soon," Draco said, reaching for her hand. She took it and they ran noisily past the unconscious Death Eaters to the cave entrance. A full moon shone high in the night sky and flooded the surrounding area with white light. Looking up at it while she ran, Hermione noticed the red ring that surrounded it. "There's blood around the moon," she commented, frowning. Draco stared at it, but said nothing. He knew what it signified.

As they ran toward the lake, Hermione asked, "What do we do now? I have no idea where we are."

Draco looked around then at Hermione. "I do, but it's quite a trip to the nearest town and I'm not sure your in any condition to travel."

"Don't worry about me," she said. "I'm fine." As she spoke these last words, she swayed violently, suddenly feeling extremely weak. Her face had turned chalk white. Draco had to stop and hold onto her to keep her from collapsing.

"No, you're not. Come on, I need to get you down by the lake."

He guided her to the oak tree that stood just off of the lake. She felt so weak, her legs wouldn't support her weight any longer and she dropped to her knees at the base of the large tree.

Draco knelt down beside her. He was concerned by the unusually high amount of heat her body was giving off all of a sudden. Her face was still white, but red patches were blossoming over her cheeks. He reached up to place his hand on her forehead, but could feel it without even touching it; she was burning up with a fever.

He laid her under the tree, careful to make her as comfortable as possible, then ripped off a piece of his shirt and took it to the lake's edge, allowing it to soak up some of the cool water. He returned to Hermione's side and allowed the water to drip all over her face and arms before he placed it on her forehead to try to break the fever. He hadn't realized how much of a toll these past months had taken on her. She was extremely weak, he guessed it was most likely due to a lack of adequate sleep and nutrition, not to mention all the stress she'd been under because of his father.

_Father_, he thought. But he did not feel the slightest bit sorry for what he'd just done. As far as he was concerned, Lucius deserved to be killed after everything he'd done his whole life.

Completely exhausted but also relieved to be free of Lucius, Hermione fell asleep within minutes feeling completely safe for the first time in a long while, closely watched by Draco.


	16. Reunion

Chapter 16: Reunion

Harry gaped at Annika. "You mean to tell me that Lucius has had her all this time?"

Annika just smiled. "Would you like to join her? We can take you to her, if you like. It won't be a pretty sight, though."

Harry struggled harder than ever against his two captors. Yelling, he looked at Lavinia, who still leaned against the cave wall playing with the hem of her robes, "You knew all of this, didn't you? You knew Hermione was still alive yet you continued to allow me to believe she was dead! I will never forgive you for this, Lavinia! Everything we just did, we just felt, the love, that meant nothing to you? I can't believe I ever trusted you!"

Harry continued to struggle, anger surging through him. Lavinia still did nothing, then turned and left the cave.

She could hear Harry yelling after her, but paid no attention to what he was saying. He was wrong, she did love him and she hated what she was doing now, but she had no choice.

Silence fell from within the cave as she walked around the bushes, but only cleared them in time before two figures came sprinting out behind her. She stared after them and suddenly knew Hermione was free and that she, Lavinia, had to find a way to free Harry as well so she could bring them back together in order to begin redeeming herself in his eyes.

Harry, still held tight between Annika and the masked Death Eater, looked around. He could see no way out if this. The only exit from the cave stood in front of him, but he knew Lavinia was out there and even if he could manage to evade the two restraining him, she would surely catch him and drag him back.

"Come on," Annika said to the masked Death Eater. "Let's get him farther inside, Lucius is probably growing impatient. I told him we'd be bringing Potter to him tonight. I'm sure he's quite eager to kill them both."

They started to drag him into the right hand side of the cave. Harry glanced outside as they passed the mouth of the cave, this would be the best time to do something, if he was going to. Suddenly he saw Lavinia's head appear around the side of the entrance. She put her finger up to her lips to tell him to be quiet and pulled around her wand.

She made sure to aim carefully so she wouldn't miss, and pointed her wand at Annika's back. She struggled with herself for a moment, trying to decide which spell to use. She knew if she simply stunned her, she would surely kill her once she woke up and then go after Harry. But then, she couldn't kill her own mother. But, Harry…

She finally decided, this was the only way. It was either kill or be killed.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" she yelled, jumping around the stone entrance, and a jet of green light shot from her wand and hit her mother square in the back. Before she even had the chance to turn around, Annika hit the ground, dead.

The other Death Eater released Harry and turned his wand on Lavinia, but she was too quick for him. This time, she sent a stunning spell at him and, as he hit the ground, his mask was knocked off his face.

Harry stared down at the all too familiar face. It was Garrett, the Hispanic Death Eater who'd shot Hermione with the arrow two long months ago. Harry looked up as Lavinia walked into the cave, toward him.

"Nice shot," he said, a note of bitterness in his voice. Regardless of the fact that she'd just saved his life, he still found himself wondering if this was all just an act, if she intended to bring him to Lucius personally to gain the credit.

Lavinia approached him cautiously. "Harry, I know I've lost your trust, and it would take a long time to gain it back, but please understand, I had no choice. Even if I'd tried to stop this earlier, Annika would have killed me and then there would have been no way for me to protect you."

"Just take me to Hermione," Harry said curtly. "We can talk about this once she's safe."

Lavinia nodded. "This way." She ran into the right hand side of the cave. Harry quickly put his shirt and jacket back on before following. They first passed the two unconscious Death Eaters, then, as they ran deeper into the tunnel, they saw Lucius's body resting in a slowly growing pool of blood that gushed from under his cracked skull.

Lavinia merely stared dazedly at the dead body as Harry looked around the far corner, searching for Hermione.

"Where is she?" he asked, impatiently. Lavinia mumbled inaudibly under her breath. "What?" he panted. Harry thought his ears were playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he had just heard her say the word '_Father_.' "Lavinia, what did you just say-"

Lavinia seemed to come back to her senses. "Come on," she said, turning around and sprinting back toward the entrance.

"Hey, wait!" Harry called after her. They ran back through the mouth of the cave and emerged out in the bright moonlight. "Where could she have gone?" Harry asked slightly out of breath.

"I saw them run toward the lake," Lavinia called back.

"Who's she with?"

Lavinia did not answer, but said, "Over there! I see them under the tree."

Harry strained his eyes in the direction of the large oak tree they had dined under earlier in the evening and saw two figures, one lying down and the other sitting beside them. As they neared, Harry recognized the figure sitting beside the apparently sleeping form of Hermione and sped up. He skidded to a halt on her other side and fell to his knees, glaring at Draco. "What have you done to her?" Harry asked, furiously.

Just as Lavinia caught up, clutching a stitch in her side, Draco answered defensively, "I didn't do this, it was my father." He looked up at Lavinia.

"Father," she echoed. "You did that," she said softly. It was not a question.

Draco nodded. "I had to. It was the only way."

Harry looked between them, bewildered. "Your father," he began slowly, standing and facing Lavinia, "is Lucius Malfoy?" he finished bitterly.

Lavinia again found herself unable to look Harry in the eye as she answered, "Yes."

"And he did this to Hermione?"

Lavinia nodded.

"And you knew." His anger was rising uncontrollably again, as did his voice. "All this time that I thought she was dead, not only did you know otherwise, but you also knew who held her and what was being done to her? How could you go about pretending like that?!"

Tears were quickly welling up in Lavinia's eyes and she winced as if he had slapped her rather than yelled at her. Her voice trembled as she spoke, "Harry, I'm sorry. I honestly had no choice. You've no idea what he's capable of when he's enraged. Please understand, I was under orders and had my mother haunting my every move. They would have killed me if I had gone astray."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as Hermione moaned and opened her eyes. He instead knelt again and looked tentatively at her. "Hermione?" he said, very softly.

Hermione merely stared at him, not sure whether or not to believe what she was seeing or if this delusion was only a result of her fever. She blinked a few times, testing to see if she would open her eyes and Harry would be gone. When that did not happen, she burst out crying and flung her arms around Harry's neck, nearly knocking him backward. "Harry! Oh my god, Harry!" she cried. "I don't believe it! After all this time, you're here!" The rest of her words were drowned as she sobbed even harder, all the suppressed emotions flooding out of her at once.

Harry simply held her as she cried and stroked her hair, he didn't know what else to do. He could feel the heat that radiated off her, but didn't know what to do to break the fever. He hated to admit it, but what Draco had done was probably helping. She had likely been much worse off before he had gotten there.

He looked up at Lavinia, she and Draco kept glancing at each other. If Lucius Malfoy was the father of them both, then that made them brother and sister. But by the way they were acting, it seemed to Harry as if they didn't seem to even know each other.

Finally Harry could wonder no longer and despite Lavinia's betrayal of him, and his anger at her for it, his curiosity got the better of him. "What's the story with you two? Lucius is your father, Lavinia? I didn't even know he had a daughter."

"Not many people do," she replied, then turning to Draco, she added, "You didn't, did you? It's obvious by your reaction of me." Draco shook his head. "I am 20-years-old, and you are what? 22? 23?" Draco nodded, he seemed lost for words at the realization that he had a sister.

"My mother is a Death Eater wannabe, she joined up right after Lord Voldemort-" she seemed to have no trouble saying the name "-was thwarted the first time. That's how she met my father. He apparently was attracted to her cruelty, she did some awful things to aid the Death Eaters in searching for the Dark Lord. But she did not return his feelings, she was annoyed by his arrogance. She never told me much, she's not someone to confide too easily in others, even her own flesh and blood." Lavinia sighed. "He raped her, that's how she became pregnant with me. Needless to say, we're not a close-knit family.

"I do remember when I was little, how he ignored me all together. Of course, my mother wasn't a role model parent either. Oh, how I hated her at times, I even tried running away once, when she caught me … well, let's just say I never did it again. The only reason she kept me was because she felt I would one day be of use to her. Then about, I don't know, nine months ago he just showed up with a job for us after years of denying our very existence. As soon as he told my mother the details, she was delighted to help. We began to make arrangements, but we weren't as careful as we should have been and the Ministry found out what the first stage of the operation was, the part involving the Weasley girl, before we were ready. Officials had grasped in the dark about what we actually were after the huge battle, the one during which you," she indicated to Harry, "killed the Lord Voldemort. They were right, but the Magical community has a reputation for forgetting things. This reminded them, so we had to speed things up. Lucius had wanted to draw this out for much longer, but decided that wasn't the best course of action."

By now, Hermione had calmed down and had fallen asleep in Harry's arms. Still stroking her hair, Harry looked down at her and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "We need to get her out of the chilly air," he said.

"We can bring her back to the Healer's camp," Lavinia suggested. When Harry gave her an uncertain look, she added, "Don't worry. The others there knew nothing about all this. It was only Annika and I who were involved."

"Fine." Harry lifted Hermione into his arms like he had done what seemed like years ago, during the battle. The three of them, with Harry carrying Hermione, then Disapparated.

Reappearing just outside the encampment, Lavinia ran ahead to rouse up the Healers while Harry carried Hermione into the main tent and laid her on the nearest bed, closely followed by Draco.

Walking sleepily into the tent entranceway, the sandy brown haired Healer named Andrea asked, amid a yawn, "Wh-What's going on? Who needs help? Lavinia wouldn't say, just to get in here." She walked over to the center table and lit the lamp then looked around at Draco, standing off to the side. If she recognized him, she didn't say. She then looked to Harry, bent over the bed.

"Hermione?" she asked, her eyes widening in disbelief when she saw who was lying in the bed. "What's going on here?"

Just then Tobias, the tall, male Healer with dark hair, appeared followed by Lavinia. He took one look around at everyone then stared down at Lavinia, who was a good deal shorter than him. "Please explain."

Lavinia took a deep breath, then said, "Hermione's not dead."

"Well, we can see that. What's happened to her?" Tobias asked.

"Please, she isn't feeling very well, just break her fever and I'll tell you everything." Tobias began gathering potions and administering them to Hermione while Andrea brought a bowl with warm water and started washing her up. Harry and Draco just watched off to the side. "Annika and I," Lavinia began, "aren't who you think we are. We're not Healers, we're Death Eaters. Well, sort of. Lucius Malfoy is my father, he's the one who's been holding Hermione for two months."

Lavinia and Draco exchanged a look. "I am prepared to hand myself over to the Ministry," Lavinia said. "I know they've been looking for me since finding out who I was."

"Me too," Draco said sadly. "I despise myself for my role in all of this and would like to turn myself in as well."

The Healers nodded. Then Andrea hurried to send an owl to the Ministry.

(end of chapter 16)


	17. Piqued Emotions

Chapter 17: Piqued Emotions

By the time the owl reached the Ministry and officials arrived, Hermione had woken up and was sitting propped up against some pillows in bed. The color had begun to return to her face but she still refused to eat. Since the clothes she wore had originally been meant for a rescue mission on a hot day, she was given a clean set of robes to change into to keep her warm against the chilly night air. Even though Andrea had curtains set up for her to change behind, Hermione still felt very uneasy undressing with any men around, so Harry and Tobias had been asked to leave.

While he stood outside the tent, Harry watched as both Draco and Lavinia had their rights read to them, though he felt neither should be allowed any rights after what they were responsible for. An odd sense of triumph swelled within Harry as he watched their hands being bound behind them and they were led into the back storage tent to await transport to the Ministry and processing. But he also had a curious feeling that he should vouch for them, though he couldn't quite explain to himself why.

A sudden tap on the shoulder made him jump and he whipped around to see Andrea standing at the opening of the tent behind him. "You can come back in now." Walking in behind her he saw that Hermione had been settled back into bed. As he made to approach her, one of the Ministry officials entered the tent and asked Harry aside. Harry glanced uneasily at Hermione, but Andrea agreed to sit with her while he spoke with the representative.

Harry explained all about how he had thought she was dead and how he just tonight learned the truth. But as he told him how he had escaped, the representative gave him a curious look with his eyebrow slightly raised and the need to stand up for both Lavinia and Draco came back to Harry, stronger than before. "Please, listen to me! She may be the daughter of two wanted Death Eaters, but she isn't one herself, she's been against their plan from the beginning. She saved my life, and Draco saved Hermione's. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"I understand," said the tall, burly Ministry wizard. "But you will have to take it up with the Minister. Our responsibility is solely to take them into custody and gather all relevant information. It will be for the Minister and the Wizengamot to decide their fates. We have our orders, Mr. Potter."

"But -"

"That's all the information I need. Thank you for your time. Excuse me." He inclined his head slightly out of respect, then walked out of the tent toward where they were holding Lavinia and Draco.

Harry recognized defeat but made a mental note to contact the Minister as soon as he could before walking back over to Hermione's bed.

Harry looked at her tentatively. He hadn't been able to talk to her since she woke up and wasn't sure exactly what she'd been through while in the clutches of the Malfoys, so he had no clue how to approach her. She still looked extremely white, even though some of her color had returned slightly, but her skin had a yellowish, unhealthy tinge to it. Cautiously, as he knelt down beside her, he asked, "How are you doing, Hermione?"

She didn't answer immediately. She at first wanted to say she felt horrible, after all she had just been raped by two men, even if one of them was unwilling, not even an hour ago. She had just been through hell the past two months and couldn't quite force herself to come to terms with it; she was out of enemy clutches, but she felt no safer, to be completely honest. She felt dejected, psychologically drained and wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but the concerned and almost scared look in Harry's eye made her feel guilty for even thinking that. She forced a half-hearted smile and simply said, "I'm okay."

Harry wasn't convinced. "No, your not. Hermione, this is all my fault."

Hermione stared at him, stunned. "No it's not, Harry." Then, as her eyes began to fill with tears, she added, "The fault is all mine. I could have easily prevented this from happening, but I wasn't strong enough. I shouldn't have let you talk me into allowing you accompany me on the mission to save Ginny. I should have realized it was a trap from the beginning. I was so stupid."

By now, Harry's eyes had also started to mist up, and at these words he stood up and pulled Hermione into a tight, what he hoped was a comforting embrace. "Hermione, no. Don't say that. No one knew this was going to happen, least of all you or I. And now those responsible for this are going to pay the terrible price for their actions."

Hermione did not try to pull away from Harry as he stood there hugging her. She began to cry into his shoulder again. Then, suddenly a wave of sheer fury swept through her and she abruptly shoved Harry away, yelling through her sobs, "Just leave me alone!" Then, pulling the covers closely around her, she turned over onto her side, drawing her legs up close to her stomach.

Harry stumbled backward, completely bewildered and stared at the back of Hermione's head. His true love. He had thought she was dead, and after believing that to be true for over two months, he had her back. But now it seemed like she didn't want him anymore, like he'd betrayed her trust in him by not realizing the truth sooner and coming to her rescue.

Andrea, who had backed away when Harry had first approached, now stepped around the bed, pulled Harry aside and said, not angrily, but consolingly, "Maybe you should go, just for now. Hermione's obviously been through a terrible ordeal. She needs time to herself, to think things through and rest comfortably. She's more than likely had to keep her guard up through it all, she now needs to realize she doesn't have to anymore, that she's among friends again. The road to her recovery won't be an easy one and she'll be relying on you to be there when she needs you and to leave her alone when she needs that too."

Harry did not fully understand, but he nodded anyway. He took one long glance over in Hermione's direction before reluctantly turning and leaving the tent. He didn't know what to do. He just stood outside the tent in the first light of early morning.

Hearing muffled voices behind him, he turned to see a faint light glowing in the slight opening between the door flaps of the storage tent and realized the Ministry wizards still had Lavinia and Draco confined in there. Anger and bitterness swelled within him at the thought of what they had done to Hermione for her to treat him as she just had. Hermione was the strongest willed person he had ever known, for her spirit to have broken the way it did… he couldn't begin to imagine what they had done to her.

Without even realizing he was moving, Harry suddenly found himself shoving the tent openings aside. All eyes were upon him; the Ministry officials seemed too shocked by his sudden appearance to stop him as he ran at Draco and, grabbing the front of his shirt, shoved him into the nearest pile of crates.

"Harry, no!" Lavinia cried out, but Harry wasn't paying her the slightest bit of attention.

"What have you done to Hermione?" Harry screamed in Draco's face. "And don't tell me nothing, I know you a little better than even a scumbag like you would admit to." Draco said nothing, he didn't even try to fight Harry off, but then, how could he with his hands tightly bound behind his back? Harry pulled out his wand and stuck the tip of it into Draco's neck.

The Ministry officials were on Harry in a second. He tried to fight them off, his anger giving him amazing strength to be able to resist two large wizards, but they finally managed to overpower him and drag him back a safe distance.

Panting, Harry struggled with all his might to get back to Draco. "What have you done?!" he screamed again.

Draco didn't dare even look at Harry, he was too ashamed of himself. He just stared at the earthy floor of the tent and shook his head.

"Harry," Lavinia said, tentatively. "Maybe it would be best if you asked Hermione."

Harry stared at her like he had never seen her before in his life until this moment. He had stopped struggling, but the Ministry officials did not relinquish their hold on him.

"I'm not sure of the details, but …"

"How can I ask her when she's refusing to even talk to me?" he cut across her bitterly. "What ever they did, they've screwed her up so much that … that…" he couldn't finish the sentence as frustrated tears threatened to erupt. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in from of any of these people present, so he jerked his arms out of the Ministry officials' grasps and stormed from the tent.

Automatically, his legs carried him to the slowly brightening trees on the western edge of the encampment and he flung himself down at the trunk of one of them, his face in his hands, not even attempting to hold back the tears. As he sat there, all the emotions he had felt since this whole ordeal began suddenly came bursting out of him. His initial sorrow and guilt when he had thought Hermione was dead, then the acceptance that he'd never see her again, and the huge relief he felt when he finally learned he could forgive himself and go on with his life. Then the feelings of love for Lavinia came as bitter sweet memories when he first loved her, then the anger he felt by her betrayal, and the shock at learning that Hermione wasn't dead after all. Then finally seeing her lying under that tree, the same one he and Lavinia had picnicked under the same night, weakened by who knows what; his anger at Draco and his frustration at Hermione.

These months, looking back, seemed more like years. He could hardly believe he had been so happy that he had proposed marriage not even 10 weeks earlier. He looked at the set of golden rings still resting on his finger and was filled with a feeling of remorse such as he had never felt, save the time his godfather had been killed in an attempt to save his, Harry's, life. As then, he now felt as if his whole world seemed to be crumbling before his eyes, and he was helpless to do anything about it.

Sudden movement in front of him made him look up. Lavinia was standing in front of him. He angrily wiped his tear streaked face before asking, "What do you want?"

Lavinia said nothing for a minute, instead she knelt down in front of him and looked straight into his eyes, but he looked away. The instant pang of guilt she felt at this did not hinder what she knew she had to say. "Harry, I want to apologize."

Harry scoffed. "I think it's a little too late for that. The damage has already been done. Hermione is probably never going to be the same."

"I know," she said softly, the regret clear in her voice.

"Anything else?" he asked bluntly, still staring resolutely at the dying leaves that littered the forest floor.

The resentment in his voice stabbed at her insides like the blade of a knife, or rather the tip of an arrow, meant to kill. She had to fight hard to hold back the tears. "I also felt I should tell you, I am going to plead guilty in front of the Minister and the entire Wizengamot. I am not even going to request a trial. More than likely they will sentence me to years in Azkaban if not life, but it's the least I deserve for what I did to you. But please understand, the love I felt for you, it was real. I was not acting." She wanted so much to take his hands, to make him look into her eyes and see the truth in them. But her hands were still held fast behind her back.

Harry did not respond or make any indication that he had heard or cared what she said. Without saying another word, Lavinia stood up and walked back to the waiting Ministry wizards on the edge of the forest.

Harry kept glaring angrily at the ground, but at the sound of her retreating footsteps, he turned and watched her leave. He knew her apology had been sincere but he had let his own stubbornness get in the way of accepting it and offering forgiveness. That on top of everything else made him feel even worse. He wanted to run after her and apologize for his own stupidity, but the tiny pops he heard from beyond his line of vision told him it was too late; he would never see her again.

Slowly, Harry stood up and walked back to the main tent, his emotions all in a jumble. If nothing else, he knew he had to stay by Hermione's side.

Walking into the tent, he found Andrea dozing in a chair drawn up beside Hermione's bed. Hoping he wouldn't wake either of them up, Harry crawled into the bed next to Hermione's and just laid there in the slowly brightening light of dawn watching her until he too fell asleep.

(end of chapter 17)


	18. Home Again

Chapter 18: Home Again

Hermione woke up a few hours after sunrise, shaking and crying silently, and just lay there with her eyes closed tight against the sun now beating in. It was a few minutes before she was able to shake the feeling of confinement produced by the dream she had just had. From her dream, she had the appalling feeling of fingers touching her in unwanted places, the curious sensation of a hand tightly gripping her upper arm, and the horribly vivid image of Lucius's face imprinted across her mind's eye. She shivered and glanced at her arm, but there was nothing there, she had known before she even looked that there wouldn't be, but she still felt the need to be sure.

She turned over onto her back and stared at the roof of the tent, still trying to rid her mind of the remnants of her dream. It had been so vivid, as if she were still in that cave with the feelings of worthlessness and of being unclean that lingered after a recent assault.

Sudden movement to her left made her jump and pull the bedding closer around her out of instinct. But, looking over, she saw that it was only Harry asleep in the next bed. Staring at him, she realized that she felt nothing. She felt no comfort knowing he was nearby, no relief or joy to be back with him. Only numbness, emptiness and overwhelming guilt.

She sighed and sat up, still careful to keep the blankets tight around her. The sound of her movement jerked Harry awake.

"Hermione? Are you alright? Do you need something?"

"No," she replied flatly.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I mean yes. I mean… I don't know."

Harry pushed off the covers and stood up. Kneeling next to Hermione's bed, he said, "Hermione, I don't know what's happened to you but I would like to help, if I can. You know you can tell me anything."

Hermione looked around the tent as if checking to be sure no one else was around. Andrea had long since gone back to bed. "Harry, I …" _I know_ was what she wanted to say, but she really didn't. Instead, she just shook her head.

Harry sort of understood her reluctance to say anything. He had felt the same way after he had witnessed Lord Voldemort's resurrection and had been tortured and humiliated in front of over a dozen Death Eaters. And as the memory of Dumbledore's office and the feeling of repression he felt when asked to relive that experience came back to him, he suddenly remembered something his late headmaster had told him that night.

"Hermione, when I talked to Dumbledore after I escaped from the graveyard in our fourth year, he told me that postponing the moment when I would have to relive what I had been through would only make it worse when I finally did feel it." When she looked uneasily around the tent again, he added, "There's no one here. Just me."

Hermione just stared at him. She couldn't tell him. She didn't know if she ever would, or could. "I can't," she said softly. "You wouldn't understand."

Harry didn't know what to say, but the awkward silence was broken when Andrea walked into the tent. "You're awake. Would you like something to eat?"

After they all ate, though Hermione hardly touched any, she allowed Andrea to heal the scrape on her knee from the night she had made the failed attempt for freedom. From lack of treatment and her obviously weakened immune system, it had become severely infected.

Afterward, Harry and Andrea had decided that the best place for Hermione to be at the moment was in familiar surroundings. She gave Harry some of the potion she had applied to Hermione's knee, just in case the wound didn't heal properly. She explained that infected cuts are usually more difficult to mend. She also gave him back the clothes Hermione had been wearing and told him not to worry about returning the robes.

He thanked both Andrea and Tobias for their help and, with Hermione holding onto his arm, he Disapparated.

They reappeared feet from their front door. Hermione quickly let go of Harry and he unlocked the door with his wand. Hermione walked past him and looked around, heading toward the kitchen. She was finally home, but, somehow, it didn't quite feel the same as before. It didn't hold the same warm, comfortable and inviting feeling as it used to. But as she continued to look around at the kitchen that had not been touched since they had left, at the dishes that remained in the sink and the long cold dredges of coffee that remained in the pot, she realized that nothing had changed about the house, she was just looking at it differently, seeing it through new eyes that had now been clouded with despair. She looked out the still open kitchen window, but the fields behind the house seemed to hold none of the same joy as they once had.

She sighed and continued up to the second floor. The same was true up here. She didn't even bother to enter their bedroom, she had no desire to whatsoever. Instead she continued down the hall to the door at the far end. She opened the door into her own private library and study and gazed around at the hundreds of books that lined the walls. She walked over to her favorite armchair that sat next to a handsomely polished wooden fireplace and sank into it.

Glancing down next to her, she saw the basket in which she kept her small assortment of colorful yarns and her sewing needles and recalled vaguely how she had, once upon a time, used them to fashion elf hats and socks. SPEW now seemed so insignificant. It was an organization she had founded to liberate enslaved house elves. The hats and socks were meant to free them: they could only be set loose if a member of the family they were in service to presented them with proper clothes.

Harry lingered in the living room, allowing Hermione the chance to wander around on her own. After a minute, he walked into the kitchen and placed the potion bottle on the table. He shivered as a cold wind came in through the window. Walking over to it, he closed it, then proceeded upstairs. He did not intend to search for Hermione: when she wanted or needed him, he was sure she would come to him. He thought he knew where she may be so he did not approach her library. He instead turned left at the top of the stairs, entered their bedroom with her clothes and simply placed them on her bureau.

Walking into the hall again, he shut the door quietly and thought he could hear the sound of quiet sobs coming from the study. It panged him that he knew not how to comfort her and even more so that she probably wouldn't let him if he tried. He sighed then walked back downstairs to finally wash the dishes left over from their breakfast on that fateful day.

For the next few months, Hermione kept herself locked up in her study, hardly leaving it but to use the restroom. Each day, Harry would make meals for himself and leave a small tray of whatever he had cooked outside the door for her. Most of the time, she wouldn't even eat half and placed the rest back outside the door. This didn't bother Harry, he was just glad she still had somewhat of a desire for food.

Though he rarely saw her, and even more rarely spoke to her, he had noticed that she had begun to send and receive many owls. He could see them flying toward and away from the house from the kitchen window. He wondered who she was in communication with until one snowy winter's day, she came downstairs dressed in long robes and wrapped in a heavy traveling cloak with the hood partially concealing her face. Slightly shocked to see her out of her study, let alone dressed to travel, Harry asked cautiously, "Hermione, is everything all right?"

She simply nodded, then said, "I am going to testify at Draco's hearing then I'm going to go visit my parents. I will probably be gone for a few hours, but I should be home come dinnertime. If not, I may stay the night with my parents. I will be home tomorrow."

Harry nodded, he didn't know what else to do. He watched as she walked to the front door and disappeared behind a wall of falling snow.

She did not return that night nor the next morning. It wasn't until mid afternoon that Harry heard her come back home. He greeted her with a warm smile as she entered the kitchen carrying a small brown paper bag, which she barely returned, before she continued through to the stairs.

Her silence frustrated Harry. He was curious to know what was in the bag, but knew he should not impose his company on her, to do so could possibly push her farther from him, which was the last thing he wanted. He also wished to know why she had gone to Draco's hearing and not allowed him to come.

The answer came in the next day's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. What he read infuriated him. A few minutes after the delivery owl had left, Harry received another letter, this one was from Ginny, Ron's younger sister, asking how Hermione was doing. By her tone in the message, she had read the same article in this morning's paper and was shocked to hear of what had brought about the trial, though the _Prophet_ provided a very vague explanation of the events.

Feeling the need to talk to someone, Harry wrote back and asked if he could visit her. He knew she wouldn't say no, and by the time the owl arrived back with her invitation, he was already dressed and ready to leave. He glanced at the door to Hermione's study briefly as he pulled on his jacket and gloves before he turned and was gone.

He Apparated at the end of the walk leading up to a beautiful two-story brick cottage with a festive Christmas wreath hung on the front door. The snow swirled around him as he hastened to it and knocked. From the window on his right, he could see her decorative Christmas tree winking at him in bright colors of red and green. He wished momentarily that he could get a tree and decorate the house he shared with Hermione, but knew it would just be a waste of time; neither he nor Hermione were in very festive moods, lately. After a minute, Ginny answered wearing a vibrant red sweater and a long, flowing dark green skirt. Despite his situation, he could not suppress the thought of how beautiful she looked and the sudden, unexpected flare of old emotions once caused in him at the mere sight or mention of her. She greeted him with a solemn "Hi," then stood aside to allow him entry out of the cold.

"Thanks for letting me come over." As he passed her, he caught the familiar flowery scent of her perfume.

"Sure, Harry. It's no problem." She shut the door once he was inside and followed him into the center of a spacious living room that was stuffed with furniture, though arranged comfortably.

Harry looked around at all the pictures of various Weasley family members that hung on the walls, all of whom had bright red hair like hers. "I just needed someone to talk to. The silence in that house was beginning to drive me mad. If that's all right," he added, only just aware that he may have interrupted something Ginny had planned, seeing her cloak draped over the back of the nearest armchair.

"No, its okay," she replied, also glancing at the cloak. "Just a stupid office Christmas party. It was something I'd been wanting to avoid anyway. There's a guy there who is constantly bringing me flowers, asking for a date, but he doesn't seem to get the meaning of the word 'no'." She rolled her eyes. "Your owl arrived only just in time; I was about ready to leave. So, thanks, really." She smiled at him and he returned it. His eyes briefly met hers, but he looked away, trying hard to ignore the flip his stomach had just done.

"Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?" Ginny offered, also trying to ignore those familiar sensations she felt when anywhere near Harry.

"No, thank you."

"So," she said as he sat down in the chair her cloak was draped over and she in the couch opposite. The open newspaper lay on the small table between them. "What's up with that _Daily Prophet_ article? Who's Lavinia? It said she was involved. A Death Eater?"

Harry could feel his face growing hot as he recalled their time together. He had been trying to convince himself that nothing had happened, but couldn't quite rid himself of the guilt her memory triggered. He hadn't told anyone of her involvement. He hadn't even been able to bring himself to contact the Minister about her. "Not exactly. Both her parents were, but she wasn't. She was … forced into doing what she did."

"Which was what?"

Harry thought hard how to best explain this. "It was her job to deceive me and lead me into the clutches of her … masters. So they could kill me and exact their revenge."

"But it didn't work, obviously, because you're still here. Was it the Malfoys?"

"Yeah. They also held Hermione captive, a way of luring me there, I think, but I'm not sure of the details."

"That's what the _Prophet_ said too. It stated that Hermione requested the specifics of the trial not be revealed. What's that about? Has she told you anything?"

Harry's heart clenched painfully at the sound of her name. He leaned forward and interlocked his fingers, his elbows resting on his knees, and stared at the engagement rings. He had not had the heart to remove them, he had no reason to; as far as he knew, they were still engaged, if not exactly happily so. "No, she hasn't spoken hardly a word to me. The day of the trial she just said she was leaving and that was it." Then, suddenly, as all his frustration and anger directed at both himself as well as the rest of the world flared, he stood up and shouted, "You know, this is what my entire life has been and I'm sick of it. Everyone I have ever loved has been snatched away from me: my mum and dad, Sirius, who was the closest thing I've ever had to a true parent, Lupin, Tonks. And now Hermione won't speak to me and I don't even know why. I wish everyone would just leave me the hell alone and let me get on with whatever is left of my god damn life."

He walked over to the window next to her brightly decorated Christmas tree and scowled at the snow that fluttered past, occasionally blown off course by a light wind. "I have never had a normal life," he said quietly, after forcing himself to calm down. He laughed with mingled hysteria and a type of savage sarcasm. "What's normal?" He stood there at the window for a few minutes, Ginny not saying a word behind him, then turned to her and asked, desperate for an answer, "What did I do wrong? Is she blaming me for what the damn Malfoys did to her?"

"No Harry," she said also standing and walking to within a few feet of him. "She doesn't blame you."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Hermione."

Harry scoffed, staring instead at the heavily decorated branches of her tree. "So did I, I thought. That sure tells me a lot."

Ginny walked to within a few inches of him, wanting so much to put her arms around him. She hated to see him like this and knew that if she could only embrace him, she may be able to ease his pain, at least for a moment. Her eyes filled with tears of empathy, but she knew that to make a move on him, no matter how good her intentions were, would only make things worse. She quickly wiped her tears away, glad that Harry wasn't looking, before saying, "An experience like that what the _Prophet_, well, _sort of_ described," she said slightly sarcastically too, "would alter a person beyond even their recognition for a while. She just needs time to sort things out with herself and realize she can begin living again."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," he fumed, pushing past her into the heart of the room again, "she needs time. How much more time will she need? It's been three, almost four months now. I need her too. You know she wouldn't even let me go with her to Malfoy's hearing. She didn't even say why she was going, and then I read," he jabs his finger toward the paper still lying open on the table, "that the little scumbag only got six months in Azkaban. I thought for sure they were going to lock him up for good, it's no more then he deserves."

"I don't really know what else to tell you, Harry. Just that she'll come to you when she's ready."

"Yeah, I suppose," he mumbled. Harry paced for a few minutes, stopping briefly to stare, unseeing at some trinket she had displayed on a shelf. Ginny watched him closely.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Harry? I could have something ready in a few minutes."

"I'm not really hungry, but thanks. And, thank you for listening, Ginny. It means a lot." He glanced at the clock on the far wall. "I should probably go, it's getting late," he finished abruptly.

"I'm glad I could help, just wish I could do more."

Harry walked over to the front door. "Have a Happy Christmas, Ginny."

She smiled. "You try to do the same, Harry. Take care of yourself. You know my door will always be open if you need me."

"Thanks." He stepped off the front step and Disapparated.

When he walked back into the house that he and Hermione had now shared for over a year, he was surprised to find Hermione sitting on the couch with a blanket draped around her shoulders, apparently waiting for him. She held something small and white in her hands, but he couldn't see it properly, his glasses had slightly fogged up after walking in from the cold to a warm house.

She looked up at him as he removed his jacket, though not accusatorily so, and said, "We need to talk."


	19. Malfoy Maladies

Chapter 19: Malfoy Maladies

Harry sat down next to Hermione on the couch, noticing as he did so that there was a small brown paper bag crumpled on the floor next to her feet. It looked as though something was inside it, but he left it alone.

Hermione said nothing for a while. In which time she played with the white object she held clutched in her hands; she seemed to be struggling with something. Watching her uneasiness made Harry nervous and anxious.

"Harry," she said after a few more minutes of silence, "I really don't know how to begin telling you this. I think I will just get right to the point." She sighed heavily before continuing. "I'm … pregnant."

These words hit Harry hard, they had certainly not been what he had expected. As if she had just thrown a rock into his stomach, he felt as if all the air had been knocked out of him. Once his senses recovered from shock, Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry out of confusion or happiness. Had she come to him with this news under any normal circumstances, he would have been thrilled. It would have meant that he was going to father a little boy or girl. But surveying her demeanor now, the fretfulness and hesitation to even tell him this news, made him apprehensive. He didn't know how to respond.

With this awkward silence, Hermione felt the need to elaborate. "I've had the feeling that I was pregnant for a while, a few months at least, but I didn't want to take any tests to find out, I was trying to deny it, thinking that if I believed enough, it would make it not true. I was _scared_, Harry." With these words, she looked him straight in the eye; something she hadn't been able to do since their not quite too happy reunion.

Sure enough, Harry could see the fear and sorrow there. It was then that he finally realized she did not blame him. It almost seemed to him as if she blamed herself more than anything. He couldn't understand this. Whatever had occurred, he was sure none of it was her fault.

"I tried to convince myself that the disorientation and nausea I felt was all just a result of … recent events. But I can't deny it any longer. And I know this is a Muggle pregnancy test," she gave the white object in her hand a little shake, "but it's results are quite clear and accurate. I mean, look at the size of me." She placed the test on the table in front of her before she moved the blanket aside and lifted her sweater a little to reveal her slightly, but still noticeably enlarged stomach. "I could never have normally gained this much weight with how little I've been eating lately. That's why I've been keeping myself hidden away, I didn't want you to see.

"The reason I went to visit my parents the other day was because I wanted my Mom to go with me to buy the test, and I didn't want to buy it in any of the Wizarding stores for fear someone would see me and start asking questions to which I was not ready to give the answers.

"She was so excited when I first explained it to her, she was under the wrong impression, but I didn't have the heart to contradict her. But I have to tell her eventually." She said this more to herself.

Harry was now thoroughly confused. With a twinge of remorse, he recalled how they had made love on the night he had proposed. Had she been impregnated during that night of passion? It horrified him to think she had been through a possibly life threatening ordeal while she was with child. But then, why wouldn't she want him to know? And what did she mean that her Mom was under the wrong impression? Suddenly, as a possibility started to come into focus, a new question came to mind and it burst from him before he could stop it.

"But, then …who's the father? Is it … me?"

"No, it's not you."

At these words, Harry's initial reaction was relief. Then, at the thought of her having sex with someone else other than him after he had poured his heart and soul out to her in his proposal, he felt bitter and resentful. Was this why she felt guilty and ashamed to be anywhere near him? But, no, there had to be a different explanation. "Then who?"

"I'm not sure."

"How can you not know who the father is?" This was beginning to irritate him. How many other men had she been with behind his back? How was this even possible?

She sighed, the moment of truth had come at last. "Harry, the two months I was imprisoned by the Malfoys… Lucius…" she paused to take a steadying breath and to prepare herself for the impact the words she was about to say would make on him. "Harry, he raped me, repeatedly."

"What!?" _Idiot_, he thought_. How could I even think she had cheated? _Suddenly, a little voice of reason sounded in his head, _You did_. Yeah, but at the time he had thought, for good reason, that Hermione was dead. _It doesn't matter. It is what it is, no matter how you try to explain it away_. Harry shook his head to try to rid himself of these unpleasant thoughts, but that did not relieve the weight of guilt that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

Misinterpreting this as utter disbelief, she nodded as if to clarify.

"And Draco?" he asked, his anger now building toward the Malfoys, thinking he could use them as an outlet for his own frustrations.

"Well … yes and no. I mean …"

"Well, which is it? Yes or no? It can't be both," said Harry, irritated that she wasn't giving him a straight answer. Was she trying to protect him?

"Not exactly. Not willingly, at least. He refused to do it and that angered Lucius, so Lucius placed him under the Imperious Curse. It was the same night that he killed his father and rescued me."

Still fuming with displaced anger but trying to keep himself under control, he said, "So it could be the child of either one of them."

Hermione nodded her head. She had the gut feeling she knew who the father was, but dared not speak her suspicions aloud. It was simply motherly intuition, if she could even call it that considering she hadn't become a mother by choice.

"So, what do we do now?" Harry asked gently, for it had just dawned on him that no member of the Malfoy family was present, it was just Hermione, and seeing as none of this truly was her fault, he had no right to be taking this out on her.

"I don't know. But I do know that I do not want this child!" The anger was very pronounced in her voice at these words. "Under the circumstances in which it was conceived, it would just cause me even more pain. I know I could never love it properly."

"Do you wish to abort then?"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock at the very mention. "Oh, no! I could never do that! No, I will bear the child, but… well, I guess I haven't really thought about that. But I know I could never deliberately kill it." She stared down at her hands, folded on top of the blanket now wrapped tight around her again. "Harry, promise me this will be kept between us. I want no one else knowing unless I decide to personally tell them." She sounded close to tears.

"Of course, Hermione," Harry said firmly. "If that is what you want. But I must warn you," he added with a chuckle that made Hermione look up at him, "I'm not sure I'll be too good at delivering a baby." He grinned lightheartedly and, for the first time in a long while, Hermione was able to give back a genuine, heart felt smile.

Hermione was glad she had told Harry the truth as voicing it aloud seemed to lift a huge burden off her chest and she therefore felt much happier the next few months. She no longer needed to carry around the horrible, leaden weight of what had happened alone. Unfortunately, the baby was another matter.

She knew the child certainly was a Malfoy because it never missed an opportunity to make her life miserable. All the kicking it did from within her now even more prominent stomach kept her awake most of the night, it seemed to prefer sleeping during the day when Hermione was up and around. And since she had finally felt comfortable enough to sleep in the same bed with Harry again, her constantly getting up in the middle of the night to run to the bathroom because it had given her bladder an exceptionally hard jab kept him up as well. By the time morning came, she was back in the bathroom with her face in the toilet with morning sickness. Hermione was already fed up with this child, and she hadn't even given birth to it yet.

On the first day of March, Harry awoke in an empty bed. This didn't surprise him and he just yawned exhaustedly after another rather sleepless night as he pulled on his bathrobe and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. As soon as he stepped off the last stair, he was blasted by a gust of cold air. Pulling his bathrobe tighter about him, he walked into the kitchen to find Hermione in a pair of shorts and a tank top, standing in front of the kitchen window, which was wide open.

"Hermione? What are you doing? Close the window. It's still too cold for that."

"No, it feels good. I'm so hot," she said, fanning herself with her hand.

Harry walked over and began to lower the window.

"Harry, no!" Hermione snapped.

"You'll get sick if you stand in front of it open that far. We can still keep it slightly open," he added, as she continued to protest, and he stopped it within a few inches of the sill. Just as he did so, a tawny owl landed on the outer ledge. Harry opened the window again to allow the bird in and saw the letter was addressed to Hermione.

"It's for you."

Hermione untied the little scroll from the owl's leg and unrolled it, her back to Harry. She had been waiting for this. All it said was: "_I've got the kit whenever you're ready. Just let me know._"

Harry watched her curiously as she rummaged for parchment and quill to send a return message, which she tied on the owl's leg as the other letter had been and it took flight. Harry lowered the window again and turned back to face Hermione.

She, it seemed, had no intention of telling Harry what that was all about, but instead had taken to glaring at him again for closing her window. "I'm still hot."

"We're not keeping the windows open this time of year," Harry said sternly. "We can get a fan, if that would help. What was that letter about?"

Hermione folded her arms, sulked to the kitchen table and sank into the nearest chair. "It's none of your business who I correspond with, and no, a fan wouldn't help. You try being pregnant and see how you feel."

Harry decided to ignore this comment; he had grown accustomed to her snappy remarks. He merely sighed, then asked, "Would you like some breakfast?"

"No, thank you," she replied curtly. "I've already eaten."

Harry walked over to the refrigerator and peered inside. "I see the beef stew leftovers from the other night are gone."

"I wanted some carrots and the stew sounded good," Hermione said defensively.

Harry smirked and discretely shook his head. Carrots were the better of the odd foods she had been craving lately, but he never thought she would want them for breakfast.

Abruptly, Hermione stood up and started walking toward the stairs. "I'm going into Diagon Alley today, I need to pick up a few ingredients. I'm going to finally try that potion for calming a colicky baby. I hope to God it works on an unborn one, I can't go another day with only three combined hours sleep. Do you need anything while I'm there?"

"No, I don't need anything. But, thanks."

After she had changed into warmer clothes that she made sure hid her stomach (with a t-shirt underneath, Harry didn't doubt), she came back downstairs and said, "I also have a few other things I have to do, so I will be gone for a few hours. I'll see you tonight."

"See you," Harry replied, throwing her a slight wave, which she did not return as she walked out the door.


	20. Fateful Encounter

Chapter 20: Fateful Encounter

Hermione hurried up the main path, which was scattered with an assortment of colorful balloons hovering inches over the hedges that lined the walkway, and knocked on the front door of a beautiful two-story, brick cottage.

From the window to her right she saw a glimpse of red hair and a pair of amber eyes peering at her around the curtains before the door was opened.

Ginny Weasley stood aside to let her pass. As soon as Hermione was clear, Ginny closed the door and wrapped her best friend in a tight hug. "Oh, Hermione. How are you?"

"As well as can be expected, given the circumstances." She smiled faintly at Ginny once she'd released her and looked around. "Your house is beautiful."

"Thank you," Ginny replied. "It was given to the family after our Great Aunt Muriel passed away. My brothers said I could have it, they all had their own places, I was staying with Ron at the Burrow at the time. I think he's still there."

"How's he doing?"

"He's been bouncing between jobs since the incident in the Three Broomsticks. But other than that, he's all right."

Hermione briefly recalled how she had come across Ron talking to Lavender over the Three Broomsticks bar so long ago and a sudden weight of guilt settled in the pit of her stomach when she thought back to how harshly she had accused him and now the realization that his life hadn't been stable since. She could only imagine how different her current situation would be if she had only listened to his explanation then instead of allowing the rumors she had heard to compound with what she had witnessed. But that was all in the past now. It was her future and that of the unborn child she was most concerned with now. So, reluctantly, she pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind.

"What's with all the decorations?" she asked, resuming her glances around the house. There were more bright balloons strewn throughout the living room and into what she could see of the kitchen. She could also smell the sugary aroma of what she could only guess was some kind of a cake. Normally, the scent would have been wonderful, but now she found it rather nauseating.

"Today is Ron's birthday. I'm having a family gathering later on tonight. You're welcome to stay if you would like, I'm sure everyone would be glad to have you. They're so worried about you. But I haven't told them anything, they only know what the _Prophet_ has told everyone else, I promise."

"I knew you wouldn't say anything. Ginny, thank you. I don't think I will be able to stay, though. I have some other things I need to do before getting home."

Ginny smiled. "I understand. Everything's ready for us in the back room." Hermione followed her through the jungle of balloons into the kitchen, trying her best not to breathe in the sickening vapors of the cake coming from the oven, down a short hallway and left into a small room across from a flight of stairs. This acted mainly as a storage room, full of boxes pushed off to the side to make room for a small table and chair. A cauldron half full of a caramel colored potion sat in the center with assorted ingredients, flasks and other tools surrounding it. Off to the side lay the instruction parchment on top of the open kit. "St. Mungo's sent this yesterday, its taken me a while to brew up the potions."

"Do they know of the situation and the rough timetable?"

"Yes, I explained everything in the letter when I requested this kit. You just have to send them word when you think the time has come for the birth. Use the Floo Network, it'll be quicker than the owl post, just call for the Main Healer's station in the maternity ward. They'll have everything ready by the time you get there. As for now, all we have to do is extract a sample of the fluid surrounding the baby and add it to the potion. Then we send it back to them, they run the tests and send us the results. We'll have them by tomorrow as long as they have no trouble getting a match to the father."

"Yeah, that could be tricky seeing as one of the possibilities is dead and the other is in prison. I should send them a letter explaining that with the potion."

"I'm sure they'll figure out a way," Ginny said. "Meanwhile, this maternity kit includes instructions for another potion to determine the gender of the child. I brewed that too, in case you wanted to take advantage of it." She indicated to a small flask off to the side full of a murky white potion. "We don't have to if you don't want to."

"It doesn't really matter to me."

"Well, let's do this first and we can do that one later, if you like. Shall we get started?" Hermione nodded. "First we have to take a sample of the fluid surrounding the baby. It's a simple spell, you shouldn't feel any discomfort."

Ginny had Hermione sit in the chair. As she performed the spell, Hermione asked, "Will you be present at the birth?"

Ginny poured the sample into an empty flask and transferred it to the contents in the cauldron. As soon as the fluid touched the surface of the potion, it gave off a small hiss. "Of course I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it." Consulting the open instruction parchment, she slowly began to stir the potion until it had turned a uniform copper color. She ladled the potion into a larger flask and corked it tight. She then brought Hermione a quill and parchment so she could write the note to send to St. Mungo's along with the sample.

Tying the letter to the mouth of the flask, Ginny tapped the flask, placing an Unbreakable Charm on it, then walked over to her kitchen window and, opening the right side panel, made a soft hooting sound. Within minutes, a small barn owl flew onto the ledge. Hermione watched as Ginny tied the flask and letter onto it's outstretched leg and realized the owl must have been perched in a nearby tree, awaiting it's delivery.

As soon as the owl left, Ginny returned to the room where Hermione was waiting. "I've decided," Hermione said. "I would like to use the gender potion. Though I'm not really sure why."

Ginny made another, smaller extraction of amniotic fluid and added it to the flask containing the murky white potion. She gently swilled it around and slowly it began to change. First into a pale yellowish color, then green and finally to a vibrant blue, where it remained. "It says," she began, scanning the parchment, "that the potion reacts with the chromosomes in the genetic material and turns pink for a girl, and blue," grinning, she held up the flask to show Hermione the contents, "for a boy. It's a boy, Hermione!" She couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice, even though she knew what a burden this child was to her friend. Ginny hoped adamantly that her first born would be a son, then maybe a girl later on.

After she vanished the potion, for they wouldn't be needing it anymore now that they knew the results, Ginny asked, "Do you have any ideas for a name?"

"No, I'm not sure if I'm going to name it -" the it slipped out before she could stop it, Hermione quickly but reluctantly corrected herself. "Him. I'll just let whomever I give him to decide that." Somehow, knowing the gender of the child made this whole situation seem more real to her than it had been before. Not that the symptoms weren't real, but this sort of finalized it. It had felt like a hazy dream, almost like she'd been living another person's life in place of her own, a dream she had honestly felt that Harry would soon wake her up from to find things the way they should have been before the messenger, Kee, had come with the news about Ginny's abduction, when this had all started. Now she would never wake up. Things would never again be normal.

With a casual wave of her wand, the table was cleared of all supplies before Ginny turned and walked into the hallway. Hermione followed after her. The sweet aroma wafting through the house from the oven turned Hermione's stomach again as she reached the doorway into the kitchen. Ginny stopped at the oven, but since it was the only way to get to the sitting room, Hermione held her breath and hurried past, swatting at the balloons as she went. Only when she had reached the couch on the farthest wall from the kitchen did Hermione release her breath again.

Ginny, who hadn't noticed this, directed her wand at the open oven door and removed the cake, placing it on a glass cake plate. "Have you decided who will be adopting him?" she asked, picking the conversation back up as if it had never stopped.

"Not yet."

Ginny waved her wand over the cake, cooling it, then with another wave, it frosted itself. "You only have about three months left to decide." From behind her, she heard Hermione sigh.

"I know, but it's a hard decision. I don't want the parents to be people I often run into."

Pointing her wand at the top and using it as a writing utensil, Ginny wrote the words _Happy Birthday, Ron_ in big, maroon letters. She stood back briefly to admire her work before turning and walking to sit next to Hermione on the couch. "Why's that?"

"The child would bring back unpleasant memories each time I see him. I want that to happen as infrequently as possible."

"Don't you want him to know who his real mother is?"

"Someday, yes. But only when he's old enough to understand, even if not fully, why I couldn't raise him. I hope by then I will have put it far enough behind me. At the same time, I want to be sure he will grow up happy. I am determining his future."

"Like a mother." Hermione's eyes, which had been fixed unseeing on the floral centerpiece of the coffee table, snapped up to meet Ginny's. Under Hermione's reproachful stare, she was slightly shocked to see a flicker of a smile appear on Ginny's face before being quickly replaced with a look of genuine concern.

Ginny hastened to rectify her comment. "Hermione, I mean nothing bad by that. You're right, this decision will affect him his whole life. Just like it will affect you. This will be your first shot at motherhood, and despite who raises him, you are still his mother. That will never change." Ginny leaned over and wrapped her arms around Hermione. Neither girl's eyes were dry as strong surges of love and complete understanding passed between them. "And no matter what, I will be here for you." They drew back, both wiping their eyes. "So will Harry and R - _Ron_?"

The change in her tone made Hermione look up at her. Ginny was staring over Hermione's shoulder at something behind her. She turned around to see Ron standing in the doorway. Judging by his reaction, he was just as surprised to see her as she was uncomfortable to see him.

There was shocked silence for a moment during which they both stared across the room at each other, vastly different recollections of the last couple of times they met coming to mind for each. Ron seemed to recover first. "I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something? I know the party's not for a few more hours. I can leave and come back."

"No, it's okay. I was just about to leave." Hermione stood up and retrieved her cloak, hastily throwing in over her shoulders and closing it to hide her stomach. "Thanks for everything Ginny. Let me know what the results come back as."

"I will," Ginny stood, all too aware of the awkwardness of the situation, and hugged her again. "You take care, and let me know if I can do anything more to help."

Ron acted as though he had been Confunded. He kept opening his mouth, letting incoherent sounds escape him while the door remained open, letting drafts of cold air into the room. His eyes followed Hermione as she approached him, he stepped aside to let her pass. He didn't want her to leave; in fact, he had been hoping for months to run into her. He wanted a chance to try to patch things up. He respected her relationship with Harry, he just wanted to be on speaking terms again.

He looked to Ginny for help. Before Hermione had reached the door, an entirely silent yet heated conversation erupted between Ginny and Ron, each sentence transmitted by a look. Ginny shot him an angry glare that asked, 'What are you doing here?'

He replied by raising his eyebrows and his shoulders defensively, which said, 'How was I to know she -' he jerked his head back towards Hermione, 'was here. What do I do?'

Ginny seemed to understand the intentions behind his plea for help. She too raised her eyebrows and nodded towards Hermione, indicating with her hand for him to go after her.

Ron could hardly believe his sister was giving her permission, but he didn't need telling twice. He quickly glanced at Hermione to be sure she was still there before he turned back, smiling, to Ginny. But the smile was quickly wiped from his face and he quailed under the dangerous look she was giving him through narrowed eyes. 'Hurt her and you answer to me.'

Ron nodded and ran, calling after her.

"Hermione! Wait!"

Hermione had just been about to Apparate at the end of the balloon-splayed walkway, but turned instead to face him. "I'm sorry, I stayed longer than I meant to. I really must be going."

"Can't it … wait? I haven't spoken to you in a long time. I want to know how you are doing. Please, can we talk?"

Hermione remembered the last time they had come face to face during the preparations to rescue Ginny and it suddenly dawned on her that he must have been as devastated as Harry when he too had thought her dead. For surely Harry had contacted him. But Ron only knew half of the story, only the part revealed by the _Daily Prophet_, and she wasn't about to fill in the gaps, not yet. All the same, she thought, it would be nice to talk to him again. She had felt guilty having to tell him she and Harry were engaged, his face had said it all that day. He truly was sorry and he still loved her tremendously.

She stared into his pleading face, at the disappointment already etched into his face because he was sure she would turn his offer down, then straight into his brown eyes and she knew those feelings had not changed. She also realized suddenly that neither had hers. Diagon Alley could wait. Harry could wait.

She smiled up at him. "Sure."

Ron beamed as he motioned with his hand toward the park down the road and they started heading that way.


	21. Old Conflicts, Same Feelings

Chapter 21: Old Conflicts, Same Feelings

For a few minutes Ron and Hermione walked along in silence. Neither was sure how to start this conversation. There was so much to be said, it was difficult to determine where to begin.

The little bit of frozen snow that was left on the ground crunched underfoot as they went. The sky above them was the same dull grey color it had been all winter. The trees they passed on the outer edge of the park were barren. Despite the coming of spring, the world around Hermione seemed as desolate as she felt. The child was a boy. What did that matter? Why had she made the decision to use that second potion? As soon as the child born, she was giving it away anyway.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione gave a small start when Ron coughed. For a moment she had forgotten he was with her. As much as she didn't want to confront what she knew they were about to get into, she also knew she didn't want to go home any time soon.

Ron glanced nervously at Hermione's profile. A million questions swirled in his head, ones he was afraid to ask and possibly even more afraid to hear the answers. He finally decided to ask the one that seemed the least intrusive. "I, ah … I saw the article about Malfoy's hearing a few months ago. You were mentioned. When I saw it … at the time I thought you were dead. What exactly happened after Harry brought you to the Healer's camp?"

Hermione had been expecting this. Keeping her gaze straight ahead of her she said, "He and his father tried to have Harry killed. Their plan failed."

"But what does that have to do with you? Why did they want you? What did they do with you and why did they want people to think you were dead?"

"Ron I really don't want to get into this right now. They kidnapped me to lure Harry to them. That's all." It wasn't entirely a lie.

"Then why did Malfoy only get six months in Azkaban while every other Death Eater got life?"

"He saved my life, Ron. The Wizengamot took that into account during the sentencing."

"But -" he began, but stopped short when Hermione came to a sudden halt and shot him an exasperated look.

"Ron, please. Something else."

Ron put his hands up in apology. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry." He sighed and shook his head. "Geez, it seems like each time I've last run into you I'm apologizing for something or other. I can't do anything right anymore, can I?" Ron walked over and sank into the nearest park bench. He jammed his face into his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, not even caring that the bench was soaking wet.

That startled Hermione. "What do you mean?" she asked, following after him.

Ron's voice was slightly muffled by his hands. "Well, the last time it was for trying to kiss you in the prep tent, and the time before that was for talking with Lavender in the Three Broomsticks. _Why_ can't you believe me, Hermione, when I tell you _nothing happened_?"

Hermione picked a dry spot on the bench and sat down next to him. Her newfound outlook on life now made the whole ordeal then seem petty and her reaction seem childish. Even more so by the explanation of events she was about to give. "Ron, up at Hogwarts, when I had gone back and you had gotten the job at the Three Broomsticks so you could stay near me, rumors started circulating."

Ron lifted his head out of his hands and turned to face her. "What kind of rumors?"

"Well," Hermione felt she needed to explain a little. "No one knew what happened to us when we went off searching for the Horcruxes with Harry. When I returned for my seventh year and neither of you came with me, then people found out you were in Hogsmeade, they started asking me a lot of questions. My lack of adequate answers, I guess, started the rumors and of course I didn't believe one of them. Until more serious ones started going around that you were seeing … other people."

Ron was beginning to understand. "You mean that I was-" he drew quotations in the air with his index and middle fingers "- seeing Lavender."

"Not just her, several other girls. I didn't _want_ to believe them, but unlike most rumors, they didn't fade with time, in fact they got worse until it seemed almost every girl above the third year had an alleged story to tell."

"How come I never knew about this?"

"How could you know? The teachers weren't even aware of it, so how could word have reached town?"

"You could have told me about it. Asked me if it was true."

"I know, but I just kept telling myself it wasn't. It wasn't, was it?"

"No. Of course not. I was there for you, no one else. The thing with Lavender, like I tried to explain before, was entirely platonic. You remember she was attacked by Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts, don't you?"

Hermione gasped. "That's right, I forgot."

"Yeah, well, she ended up the same as Bill, though not quite as badly scarred, not on her face like him anyway. And it caused some problems with the boyfriend she had. I don't remember the details. They got into a major argument and it brought out some violent tendencies in her she never even knew she had. I'll tell you, it scared the hell out of her what she did, so she took off. I was the first person she found that she knew -" he cleared his throat, "- quite well. I had just gotten there, but the place was empty it being so early in the morning. I had completely forgotten it was the day of a Hogsmeade visit for you, so you can imagine my surprise when you walked in. And, well, you remember the rest."

Hermione sighed, her mind trying to process this new bit of information. "I should have listened to you before. I guess I hadn't discounted the rumors enough, maybe a part of me did believe them but I was trying so hard to deny it. Then when I saw you with her, it just seemed to confirm what I'd been hearing and all the explanations I had given myself for you seemed to crumble. I snapped. I guess I owe you a huge apology."

Ron took both her hands in his but she did not pull them away. "Hermione, I remember too well the flock of birds you sicced on me in our sixth year when I was dating Lavender. You're scary when you're angry. Did you really think I would make that same mistake twice?"

Hermione laughed weakly. "No, I guess not." She looked up at him with a concerned expression. "Was I really that frightening?"

"That day, I was more afraid you'd attack me with three-foot spiders than little yellow canaries." Ron shivered.

"I would never be _that_ heartless. I know how much you hate spiders."

Ron smiled. "Always good to know." He let go of her hands and glanced down at his watch. "Well, we still have a good two and a half hours until my party. You are coming, aren't you?"

"I don't know. I have some things I need to pick up in Diagon Alley. And I told Harry I would only be gone a few hours. I don't want him to worry about me."

Ron's spirits fell slightly. "Yeah, okay. So, uh, how's it going with you two? I mean, you know, since the thing with the Malfoys?"

"It's been … different. It feels … awkward sometimes."

"Are you two still engaged?"

Hermione wasn't sure how to answer. Her initial response would have been "yes," but she'd wondered otherwise since she and Harry got back home. She looked down at her left hand and at the finger on which a ring should have rested and wondered if Harry still had it. After all, she didn't know for sure if Annika had given it to him and she hadn't thought to ask with everything that had happened since that day. Unaware that she was doing so, she placed her hand on her stomach and felt the movement of the fetus within. Her thoughts then began to lead her away from Ron's question and she sat there for a few minutes, lost in an odd string of memories and thoughts.

Ron watched her, unsure what to make of her behavior. "Hermione?" His voice brought her back to his reality. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry, just tired. I haven't been sleeping well. What were you saying?"

She looked at him and could see the concern in his eyes; he knew there was more going on than she was saying. "I asked if you were still engaged to Harry."

"I don't know."

Ron stood up and walked around the bench. He wondered how he could prove to Hermione that he still cared deeply for her and wanted to know what was troubling her so he could try to help. But staring at the barren and empty park offered him no inspiration. He stared down at the frozen ground at his feet as he walked farther from the bench and noticed a small lump of half-melted snow that was almost perfectly round and an idea came to him. He scooped up the ball in his bare hands and felt that it was still rather soft. He glanced briefly in Hermione's direction thinking that if he could just get her laughing … He took careful aim and threw it at her. It hit her squarely in the back of her head and dissolved into a shower of white that settled in her hair and on her shoulders.

Hermione shrieked as bits of snow slid down her sweater and melted on the bare skin of her back. She jumped up and spun to face him, her mouth open in shock. He hastily attempted to hide the second snowball behind his back, his face alight with amusement, but not before she had seen. She narrowed her eyes at him, a small smile curving her lips, and bent to scoop up her own bit of frozen ammunition. She very quickly discovered that bending down was the easy part, it took slightly longer for her to stand back up; she had to grasp the bench to help. When she made to throw the snowball back at him, he wasn't there. She looked around for him. His position was given away to her when the second ball hit her from the left behind her.

She turned to see Ron snickering and launched her snowball, but it just turned to a puff of snow in the air a few inches away. She scooped up another handful, but the same happened. Ron howled with laughter at the look of frustration on her face.

"Okay, enough of this," she said with a playfully determined glint in her eye as she reached under her cloak and withdrew her wand. "You're going to get it now, Ronald Weasley." She flicked her wand at the nearest pile of snow and it flew into the air as a perfect ball. Another flick sent it hurdling at Ron, exploding on the arm he had put up to block it.

"Hey," he yelled, a chuckle in his voice. "That's not fair. Using magic."

Hermione lowered her wand. "Oh, like catching me unawares is?"

Ron shrugged. "All's fair in love and war."

"Really? And which is this? Love or war?"

The question caught Ron off guard. He had hoped she would take the hint as intended. He smiled more broadly; he should have known Hermione would do more than just catch the hint. She'd throw it back at him. "Both."

"I see." She stood there for a moment lost in thought in a mocking sort of way, glancing at Ron very briefly a few times. He seemed poised for flight or defense; he knew she could strike at any moment. But as the minutes passed, he relaxed his stance and Hermione instantly took advantage of his drop in defenses. With a quick flick of her wand, she sent a puff of snow soaring straight at him.

Ron barely had time to react; he was only able to close his eyes before the snow hit him dead in the face. He kept his face screwed up against the cold as the snow melted and dripped down his face. Reaching up, he flicked a clump of snow out of his eyelashes and opened one eye. Hermione's initial surprise had already vanished; she stood with her hand over her mouth to contain her laughter, but the part of her face that was visible gave her amusement away. He could see a sparkle in her eye with each muffled giggle that he hadn't seen in a long time. This was the Hermione he remembered.

"I'm … sorry," she gasped, trying but failing to keep her voice level and her apology sounding sincere. "I was aiming for your chest, I swear."

Ron blinked the melted snow out of his other eye. Then without warning he bent down, scooped up another handful and took off toward her. She squeaked and tried to duck around the back of the bench, but realized too late that running while pregnant didn't work. Ron launched his snowball as he got near. It was all Hermione could do to avoid it as it soared within inches of her head.

"Ha! You missed," Hermione yelled over her shoulder as she turned her head around to face him, not realizing that he was nearly on top of her.

"Oh, yeah?" he growled jokingly as he grabbed her from behind and playfully squeezed her stomach.

Hermione gasped as a sharp pain shot through her lower back. "Ron, let go." But he either hadn't heard or thought she was joking around, so a little louder and more forcefully she yelled, "Ron! Let go!"

He heard her that time and instantly released her, all fooling around aside. "What happened? Did I hurt you?"

Hermione rubbed her lower back as she made her way back around the bench and sat down. Even though the pain had stopped when he had let her go, the shock of how sharp it had been hadn't yet worn off. Ron stared at her, unsure of what he had just done; he had just been playing around and thought he was being gentle.

"I'm okay now. My back's been achy lately and the way you grabbed me made it hurt."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't." Hermione sighed. She hadn't quite decided whether or not to tell him of her pregnancy, but now it seemed she had no choice. She knew he would never just accept an "it's nothing" explanation. "I guess I should have told you."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Told me what?"

"I'm pregnant."

Ron was a little more slow on the uptake than Harry had been; he just stood there staring at her with his mouth slightly open. "Pregnant?" he repeated dumbstruck when he finally regained the ability to speak.

She nodded.

"I am so sorry for grabbing you the way I did. If I'da known, I would never have … You could've lost the -" At the realization of what he could have done hit him, the color drained from his face. The last word of his sentence came out as nothing more than a whisper. "_Baby_." He stared off into space as he sank down on the bench next to her, right into the puddle of water he had been sitting in before.

"Ron," Hermione said gently, trying to catch his attention. She finally had to tug on the sleeve of his jacket to make him look at her. "I don't think what you did could have made me miscarriage." When he showed no sign of understanding, she rephrased. "Lose the baby. I'm fine. He's fine."

"He?" This single word snapped him back. "It's a boy? I'm so happy for you, and Harry. You're going to have a boy." He patted her stomach, of which he had only just become aware of despite the cloak she wore to hide it. "Hi in there. I'm Ron, a good friend of your mommy and daddy."

Hermione smiled weakly; like with her parents, she didn't have the heart to correct him.

Ron looked back up at Hermione and she could see a kind of lonely sadness within his eyes, though he tried to hide it. "I am very happy for you." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. The skin tingled where his lips had touched and she closed her eyes. Though it was a simple, innocent gesture, Hermione couldn't help but feel a kind of loneliness herself. She did love Harry but it was a different kind of love than what she felt for Ron. It was a moment before she realized he was talking again and for her to open her eyes. "And I want to be there when he's born. I've never been to a birth before, seeing as I'm the second youngest of seven and I was only a year old when Ginny was born. You will let me know right?"

"Yes, I will."

Ron smiled. "Good. Now," he glanced at his watch again. "You still have to go to Diagon Alley, don't you?" She nodded. "May I accompany you?" She nodded again.

Ron stood up and helped Hermione to her feet. "Then you're coming to my party, right?"

She gave a weak laugh and a smile, ignoring his question, then turned on the spot.

Ron grinned to himself, his hope still strong. _It wasn't a "no,"_ was all he could think of, besides the woman who now waited for him on the streets of Diagon Alley, as he turned to followed her lead.


	22. Growing Apart

Chapter 22: Growing Apart

Hermione closed the front door quietly behind her. It was past midnight and the house was dark. Hermione guessed Harry was already in bed and probably asleep. After Ron had accompanied her to Diagon Alley, he had also convinced her to go to his party. It had been nice to see all the Weasley brothers again: George, who had had a very rough time after his twin, Fred, had died but was doing better these days, only without the joke shop; Percy, who had been accepted back into the family; Charlie, who still worked with dragons in Romania; and Bill, his wife Fleur and their 4-year-old daughter Victoire. What with all life's burdens weighing them down, it hadn't been quite the joyful get together she had remembered, but it was still nice to amongst them again. They all hadn't been the same since the loss of Fred during the Battle of Hogwarts or of their parents to the Death Eaters only a few years later.

Memories of the evening swirled in her head as she removed her cloak and draped it over the arm carrying the bags of potion supplies she had bought earlier. She walked quietly through the living room into the kitchen as she remembered meeting cute, little blonde-haired Victoire and how she couldn't quite pronounce Hermione's name right. Enjoying a delicious dinner of chicken parmesan, watching Ron cut the first slice out of his birthday cake and griping about the color of the lettering. She laughed silently as she crept up the stairs when she remembered how he always seemed to hate the color maroon, but how no one seemed to know what colors he really did like. All through dinner and after, Ron kept cracking jokes and laughing along with everyone else. Later on, Ginny had pulled her off to the side and told her that she hadn't seen him like this in a few years. Hermione had just briefly explained that he and her had resolved a misunderstanding that she now realized must have been weighing on his mind terribly. Ginny hadn't asked anything else, but the pat on the arm she had given Hermione as she had walked away told her that Ginny understood everything, even what she wasn't saying.

As she opened the door into the bedroom she shared with Harry, Hermione found her mind drifting to every time that night that Ron had caught her eye and it seemed the more she thought about him, the more she couldn't stop thinking about him.

Just as she had expected, Harry was fast asleep. She closed the door as silently as she could so she wouldn't disturb him. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then she walked over to her dresser and pulled out a nightgown. As she went to close it, the edge got caught on another piece of clothing in the back and when she tried to apply a little more pressure, it slammed shut. Harry gave a grunting snore from behind her and she turned to see him sit up in bed.

"Hermione? Is that you?"

She sighed. She had been hoping not to wake him up. "Yeah, it's me. I was just getting a nightgown to change into. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's all right." He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him. "It's 12:30. Are you just getting home?"

"Yeah."

"Did you get what you needed?"

"Yeah. And I ran into … an old friend. That's why I'm back so late. We were talking."

Harry yawned. "Are you hungry? I made for dinner. I could bring some up for you."

"No, I'm not hungry. But, thanks."

"Are you sure? I could heat it up real quick. Only take a few minutes."

"No, really," she snapped. "I'm fine." Then she crossed the room without another word and left.

Harry slumped confused against his pillows. It seemed to him that she no longer desired his company. She was becoming more distant and more short tempered with him with each passing day, like she was steadily building a brick wall between the two of them.

Hermione sighed again as she opened the door to her study. After depositing her bags and cloak in the armchair in front of the fireplace, she pulled out her wand and lit the lamp across the room. She changed into the nightgown, tossed her clothes on top of her bags, and slumped into the couch that stood opposite the armchair. The chilly air in the room made her shiver so she aimed her wand at the fireplace and a warm fire leapt into life. She sat staring into the flames for a moment before a cold wind passed through the room and made them flicker. Looking for the source of the breeze, she saw the window to her right had been left open. She stood up, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and throwing it around her shoulders as she walked to the window. Stopping in front of it, she gazed out at the country that stretched in all directions and the single path that wound it's way through it to the nearest Muggle towns. Hills rolled up beyond the meadows, obscuring those towns from view. The area was so secluded, that was what she had loved most about the house when she and Harry had first moved in, and besides, for wizards who could Apparate, distance didn't matter. But now, it did nothing but make her feel more alone and lonely as she stood, looking up at the moon and what few stars she could see through the clouds. Another cold breeze blew in, ruffling the end of her blanket that hung nearly to the floor. She hugged it closer about her and closed the window. Tearing her eyes from the empty view and her mind from her lonely thoughts, she turned back to the couch and laid down on her side, staring into the roaring flames.

Something had been rekindled between her and Ron. A love that she had thought had gone cold she now realized had only been tarnished by a silly misunderstanding. The events of the day had not only wiped away the negativity, but had polished both their feelings back to their usual luster. Nevertheless, she was not the same person, she felt older, more mature, more … she couldn't tell what more she felt. It seemed so much weighed on her mind these days that she may never figure out for sure what all these jumbled emotions meant: love mixed in with uncertainty; sadness and a desire to be left alone clashed with a need for companionship, but with that need came too a reluctance to hope that such companion would be able to understand what she had gone through to get where she is psychologically now and would be able to handle her emotional baggage. Could Ron accept her now as the person she had become? Could Harry?

Hermione sighed as she rolled over onto her back, trying to rid her mind of these unsettling thoughts so she could try to fall asleep. After nearly an hour, she was able to finally drift off.

Hermione was woken up the next morning after another restless night's sleep by a soft tapping on the study window. Opening her eyes, she glanced toward the window and saw a small, grey owl sitting on the ledge. Sitting up and letting the blanket that had been wound around her fall to the floor, she walked across the room and opened the window.

The owl hooted merrily as it hopped onto the low bookcase under the window. As she tried to untie the scroll from it's leg, the owl nuzzled his head against her arm. Hermione thought that was strange; she had never seen an owl show affection that this before. As it took flight again, she could almost swear the bird gave her a small smile, but she knew she must have imagined it. She closed the window and walked back to the couch, unrolling the parchment. It was a very short letter and all it said was:

_Good morning! _

_- Ron_

She could not suppress the grin that spread across her face as she sat down, rereading the three words several times. There was also a blot of ink next to his name that seemed to indicate that he had wanted to add something else and was about to, but then changed his mind at the last second. This seemed so unlike Ron, but then again, it had achieved what she could only imagine was his intention: it had brightened her morning, if only a bit.

The next morning, it happened again. The same owl brought her the same message from Ron and nuzzled her arm while she tried to remove it. This happened for several weeks straight; he never missed a day and never said anything else. After a while, Hermione seemed to come to the conclusion, as far fetched as it seemed, that the owl understood what feelings they shared and was conveying them to each other. She didn't feel lonely anymore. She had even bought a bag of owl treats as a show of gratitude for what the little grey owl was doing for them.

Harry had noticed a change in her as well. She wasn't nearly as snippy with him as she had been and seemed to be happier overall, but she still refused to sleep anywhere but in her study. He didn't mind this, though; he was becoming accustomed to sleeping alone.

Soon, the chilly winter air gave way to warmer, wetter weather, the onset of spring, and the near arrival of June. With each passing day, Hermione's stomach grew larger, as did the male fetus still growing inside it, so that no amount or type of clothing was able to hide it. This added weight made the most simple tasks seem a chore: walking up and stairs, bending down and standing up. Her back aches were also getting worse due to the strain her spine was now constantly under. It seemed she couldn't go one day without a sharp pain shooting from her lower back into her stomach.

Also, the farther along she got in her pregnancy, the more she tended to rely on Harry. On more than one occasion, he had to help her up after bending down to pick something up, or help her reach something up in a cabinet that she couldn't reach because the counter got in the way of her enlarged stomach. As happy as Harry was to help, it very quickly became equally frustrating for Hermione that she couldn't do it on her own.

Early one morning the first week into June, Harry came downstairs and into the kitchen in time to see Hermione perched precariously on a chair, attempting to lift down a frying pan. He instantly rushed to her aid, steadying her on the chair. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Thanks," she grumbled as he lifted the pan out of her hand and placed it on the counter. "I'm really hungry and I wasn't sure when you were getting up. I didn't want to wake you." Harry let her hold onto his shoulder as she stepped off the back of the chair.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked as she pushed the chair back over to the table and sat down in it.

"Oh, I don't know. A few hours at least. I couldn't sleep. My damn back again. I wish it would quit aching already."

"Did you take the potion to ease the pain?"

"I'm out."

"Out? But we just brewed that a few days ago."

She glared up at him. "Yeah, I know. Gee, does that tell you anything?" Then quickly she added, "Sorry, sorry. I shouldn't take this out on you. I'm just really tired."

"No problem. I'm sure you are. What were you going to make?"

"Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast."

"I can do that." He started bustling around the kitchen gathering utensils and pulling the bacon and eggs from the fridge.

Hermione glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and noticed it was about time for her little owl friend to arrive but before she could leave, Hermione saw through the window a different owl flying toward the house carrying the _Daily Prophet_. She was able to get over to the window and open it before it reached the sill. Scanning the front page and quickly into the next pages, she found the article she had been waiting to see; she had estimated it would show up in the paper soon. "I'll be right back." Harry nodded as she waddled toward the stairs, taking the _Prophet _with her. When she arrived in her study, she found the grey owl already perched on the low bookshelf below the open window, waiting for her. She smiled at the little owl as she untied the letter and he nuzzled her arm. "Stick around," she whispered, feeding him a treat. "I need you to do me a favor."

Pulling a piece of spare parchment from her desk drawer and taking a quill from the ink jar , she quickly wrote a note to the person to whom she would be giving the child up. In the letter, she explained the situation, her trepidation to raise the child, and that she wasn't expecting to give birth for another week or more, so he would have time to prepare and get everything he needed. She ended by saying that this was his choice, and he could say no if he really felt he couldn't take the child but that she truly felt he was the best choice as a parent to raise the child in her stead.

The owl watched her as she sealed the parchment into a tight scroll and attached it to his obligingly outstretched leg. The look he gave her this time before he took off, however, was more one of sympathy, as if he were saying 'I understand what you are doing is hard, but it is for the best'. She smiled and muttered a 'thank you' as he flew off in the direction of the rising sun.

The reply arrived swiftly. All it said was:

_I understand. Yes, I will take care of the baby._

Hermione felt better as she closed the door to her study behind her, knowing the child had a place to go. But as she made her way down the hall, the sharpest pain yet hit her and she had to lean her hand against the wall to steady herself. She also felt an incredible urge to use the restroom, so she turned back slightly and wobbled into the bathroom. Before she had even stepped into the room, she felt a small trickle of something down her leg, but she didn't think she had to go that bad. Then she suddenly remembered reading somewhere about that sac of fluid surrounding the baby ruptures before labor. When the trickle didn't stop, she knew …

Waddling back out of the bathroom, she started yelling down to Harry before she got to the stairs. "Harry! Harry, contact St. Mungo's! My water just broke! It's time!"


	23. The Birth

Chapter 23: The Birth

"Harry?" Hermione repeated from the top of the stairs when he didn't answer. "Harry, it's time!"

"Time for what?" he called back, approaching the foot of the stairs and looking up at her.

Hermione now clung to the top of the banister. "The baby's coming. Harry we have to go to the hospital."

"Now?" He glanced into the kitchen at the frying pan sizzling on the stovetop with longing.

"Now, Harry. _Now! _Trust me, this was not my decision to make!"

Panicked, Harry ran into the kitchen, turned off the stovetop and vanished the eggs and bacon. He then skidded into the living room, nearly colliding with the coffee table, dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace, stuck his head in and threw a pinch of Floo powder into the smoldering embers. Emerald-green flames shot up and he called out for the maternity ward Healer's desk. Instantly, he felt the odd sensation of his head spinning while his body remained stationary. After a minute, it stopped and he was looking out of a fireplace at the end of a small hallway, directly across from the main desk. On the wall below the marble countertop was a plaque that read "Maternity Ward. Healer-in-charge: Jeffery Galestane." A young woman with curly blonde hair sat behind the desk, writing on a long piece of parchment that was hanging slightly over the edge of the counter.

"Hello, excuse me," Harry called, trying to get her attention. Intent on her work, the woman jumped at the sound of his voice and the parchment rolled up and fell as a scroll on the floor in front of him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's all right." She rounded the end of the counter and bent down next to the hearth, the hem of her lime green robes brushing the floor. "What can I help you with?"

"You were contacted, well not you personally, but someone here anyway, a few months ago about a woman named Hermione Granger. She says her water's just broke, she's going to have a baby and I need to bring her to you, but we just wanted to let you know first so we didn't just show up, unannounced." He said this so fast it took the woman a moment to grasp what he had said.

"Okay, I think I got all that, but what was the name again?"

"I'm Harry Potter, she's Hermione Granger. She's the one having the baby, not me."

Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of his name and Harry noticed her gaze drift upward to the scar on his forehead briefly before she said, "Yes, I guessed that was the case. Okay, we'll have everything ready when you get here. How far apart are the contractions?"

Harry hadn't even thought to ask. "I don't know. She never said anything about contractions."

"Okay, no problem, we can determine that when you get here. You can come right through the Floo Network again, if you like."

"That's great. Thanks. Right back." He pulled his head back out of the fire and ran upstairs to help Hermione down.

A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione stepped out of the emerald-green flames into the same hallway that Harry had seen earlier and were met by the young blonde witch.

"Hello again, we spoke earlier." She extended her hand in greeting to Harry, who shook it, then she offered it to Hermione. "You must be Hermione. My name is Nancy Weaver. Your room is right down here." She led them down the hall into a small room off to the right. While Hermione changed into a hospital gown, Nurse Weaver had Harry fill out a few forms.

Once the Healers had set her up in bed, her feet up in the stirrups, Hermione said, "Harry, we need to send messages to Ron and Ginny, telling them I'm about to give birth. They both want to be present. Also one to Malfoy."

"We can take care of that for you," Nurse Weaver said.

"Thank you."

Just as she left the room another Healer entered carrying a large clipboard. She handed him the forms Harry had just signed and disappeared from sight.

The man greeted them both with a warm, caring smile. "Good afternoon Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter." He shook hands with each of them in turn. "My name is Jeffery Galestane, I am the Healer-in-Charge of this ward and I will be the one delivering the baby today. We will be explaining everything to you as we go, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask me or any of the other Healers."

Just as Hermione nodded her understanding, a sharp pain hit and she gasped, gripping the side of the bed.

Harry was instantly next to her. "Are you all right?"

She slowly let her breath out as the pain subsided. "Yeah. That was the worst one so far."

"How long apart are the contractions?" Healer Galestane asked, bending down for his initial examination of Hermione.

"I don't know. That was my back. Is that what that was? A contraction? I've been feeling pains like that since yesterday morning."

"Yes, it was. If you'd been experiencing them that long, why didn't you contact us sooner?"

"I didn't know that's what they were."

"Well, don't worry about it. You're here now and besides, you're only 6 centimeters dilated, you still could have a long way to go. Or the baby could come in under half an hour. Every woman is different, every birth is different. Is this your first?"

"Yes."

The Healer straightened up and looked over at Harry, who stood to Hermione's right. "The birth of your first child is always a wonderful day. My wife and I have three daughters and a son. I remember clearly the day each was born. They were all amazing days, not just the first one. You both must be very happy."

Harry and Hermione exchanged an embarrassed glance. Harry shifted slightly on his feet under Healer Galestane's nonetheless gentle gaze. "Well, actually … I'm not the father. I am just a friend. A very _good _friend."

He smiled warmly. "It's really none of my business. It's great that you're here to support the mother-to-be, in any case." He bent to make a note on his clipboard.

From out in the hall, a familiar voice caught both Harry's and Hermione's attentions.

"…Hermione Granger."

"Third door on the right," they heard Nurse Weaver reply.

Seconds later, Ginny Weasley appeared in the doorway. She was very out of breath, her face was sweaty and her hair and clothes were disheveled. "Hermione! Oh. I came as soon as I heard."

"Where's Ron," Harry asked.

"I don't know. He should be here soon." Still panting, she collapsed into the chair on Hermione's other side and conjured a glass of water, which she downed in barely a minute.

"What's happened to you?" Hermione asked.

"A doxy got in right after lunch. I've been chasing it all over the house all afternoon. Nasty little bastards they are, and there I was with no doxicide."

"Did you get it out?"

"Yeah, right before I got the message from St. Mungos."

From out in the hall they heard hurried footsteps, briefly pausing twice before continuing down the hall toward them. Then Ron appeared in the doorway, his eyes swept the obviously occupied room in which every person was watching him, but then he ran past. Ginny, Hermione and Harry exchanged amused glances, but Healer Galestone knew not what to make of the event. They heard his shoes skidding on the tiled floor as he about-faced and came rushing into the room. He apparently hadn't even bothered to stop to ask which room.

"Hermione," he panted. "The baby … didn't know … coming … so soon."

Ginny could hardly keep from laughing as she tried to offer him her seat.

"No, thanks. I'm okay." He walked over to the bed. "Doing all right, Hermione?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just mild aches right now."

"Hey, Harry. How's it going? Haven't heard from you in a while," Ron asked as he started to round the end of the bed.

But before Harry could answer, a contraction hit and Hermione let out a loud gasp and yelled between clenched teeth, "Harry! Give me your hand."

Ron stopped and looked at Hermione, his eyes wide. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

Ginny answered. "Ron, it's just a contraction. A normal part of child birth. She's okay." But Ron hadn't heard a word. He had just caught sight of her propped up feet and bent down slightly to find out why they were like that. But he straightened up quickly, wishing he hadn't been so curious.

"Whoa! Uh," he gave a nervous chuckle. "Okay, I think, yeah. I'll be out in the waiting room. Call me when the baby's here."

All three called after him in unison.

"Ron, get back here!" Hermione said still through clenched teeth, the pain having not subsided yet..

"Wimp," Ginny yelled, not able to stop laughing at the look on his face.

"You coward. Hey!" Harry called as Ron's feet disappeared around the doorway. He scoffed. "Wish I could leave." He had said this under his breath, but Hermione heard him.

"You had better stay, Harry Potter!" she shrieked as the pain flared suddenly again and she squeezed his hand.

Harry cringed at the enormous pressure she was exerting on his hand. "Okay, okay! I'll stay!" Ginny laughed even harder.

Hermione's labor lasted for several more hours, during which time Harry and Ginny scarcely left her side. Finally, at 7:18 that night, Hermione gave birth to a 7lb 6oz, 16-inch baby boy. While the Healers cleaned up the crying newborn, Ginny went to fetch Ron and they both reentered the room as Nurse Weaver was placing him, now calm, in Hermione's arms, wrapped snuggly in a small blue blanket.

"Oh, Hermione," Ron whispered as he approached her. "He's beautiful."

Hermione gently moved the blanket aside to reveal a head full of very light brown hair. He stirred and opened his eyes, staring up into his mother's sweaty face. His eyes were of the brightest blue.

Ron looked over at Harry. "How did it go?"

"All right. There were no problems as far as I could tell." He shook his hands, trying to get the feeling back into them. "Wish you had been here, though. I could have used a second pair of hands to give mine a rest."

"What are you going to name him?" Nurse Weaver asked.

"I'm not going to," Hermione answered, tears brimming her eyes as she stared at the now sleeping infant, her own flesh and blood regardless of circumstance, for the magnitude of her decision and what she was about to do had just truly hit her for the first time. "There should be another person here waiting," she said, not taking her eyes off the miracle that had been created within herself. "A wizard. The baby will be going to him and he will choose the name."

The nurse's brows furrowed in confusion; clearly this had never been done before. "Yes, he arrived about an hour or so ago. He is waiting a few floors below. We could fetch him for you, if you would like."

"No!" she cradled the babe closer to her chest. Her reaction startled the blonde witch. "No," she repeated more calmly. "I would first like to spend some time with … my son."

Nurse Weaver nodded her understanding. "You should breast feed before we take him then."

"Okay. I will."

Nurse Weaver nodded again and she and Healer Galestane left the room. Harry, Ron and Ginny exchanged meaningful glances that went unnoticed by Hermione, who seemed to have eyes for no one but the sleeping child, and they too left the room.

Out in the hall Harry leaned his head back against the wall. "I am so glad I never have to do that. If my hands are any indication of the pain she felt …" he shook his head.

Ginny walked over and stood next to Harry. Ron seemed off in his own little world as he paced in front of them, once in a while stealing a glance in at Hermione and the baby. "Did you notice how her attitude toward the child changed dramatically after the birth? It almost seems like she no longer wants to give him up."

"I know. It is her decision though. But I still have to agree with her reasons to give him away: he will just bring back horrible memories each time she looks at him."

"Maybe not though. Maybe keeping the child will help to heal those emotional wounds. It is possible that for her to give him up now would just make it that much worse."

Harry sighed and crossed his arms. "Either way, it is her decision. I still wish there was something I could do. I feel so helpless."

Ginny lightly placed her hand on his arm. "You _have _been helping her, Harry. And it's something she won't soon forget."

Harry smiled down at her and placed his hand over hers, silently thanking her in a way he knew she understood. He leaned his head against the wall again and closed his eyes. After a minute he felt Ginny rest her head on his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it gave him a tremendous amount of comfort merely knowing she was there. They stood like that for a few more minutes, then Harry sighed and said, "We should get back in." Looking around, he suddenly realized the hall was empty. "Where's Ron?"

They both stepped away from the wall and glanced around the corner.

Hermione had already finished feeding the baby and Ron was sitting on the edge of the bed. They could hear him talking to her, but he was speaking so softly they couldn't hear what he was saying. With the arm that wasn't cradling the baby's fragile head, Hermione reached up and wiped what Harry could only guess was a tear off her cheek. In a cracked voice, they heard her say, "I know," before she burst into tears. Ron said nothing, but instead, leaned toward her and held her the best he could without disturbing the child and just let her cry.

Harry and Ginny ducked back around the doorway and leaned against the wall again. Without saying a word, they each knew what the other was thinking: Hermione had decided not to keep the baby.

A few minutes later, Nurse Weaver approached them. "Is Ms. Granger finished feeding? Healer Galestane said the child would be all right to travel and the gentleman is still waiting downstairs."

"Yeah, she is," Harry said. "But I'm not sure she's quite ready to part with the baby." He glanced around the corner again. Ron saw him looking and motioned for him to come in. Harry walked back into the delivery room, closely followed by Ginny and the nurse.

As he rounded the end of the bed, Ron gave Harry a small, sad smile. Harry stood slightly apart on Hermione's other side, not sure about what he should say or do, or if he should even do anything at all.

Although Hermione's face still bore the unmistakable signs that she had been crying, she felt very safe and content in Ron's arms.

Nurse Weaver also seemed unsure of herself as she approached Hermione. "Miss? Is everything all right?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes. I'm okay and I'm ready." As she made to lift the child out of his mother's arms, Hermione suddenly said, "Wait. I forgot something." She drew him toward her again and lifted aside one edge of the blanket to reveal the baby's small hips. He had no birthmark, like she knew he wouldn't. She wrapped him back up. "Okay."

Ginny lingered on the far side of the room. She and Harry caught each other's gaze a few times, but neither seemed able to do anything but stand by and watch as Hermione handed the baby over to Nurse Weaver.

"Good-bye, little boy. We will meet again." Hermione's chin trembled as the nurse carried the baby through the door and they disappeared from sight.

"You did what you had to, Hermione," Ron said, his arm around her shoulders. "No one can blame you for that."

"I know. Thank you guys, for being here for me."

Ron gave Hermione's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Ginny smiled and stepped closer to the bed. "Of course."

Harry was slightly preoccupied. "Whose the father? Did you ever find out?"

Hermione glanced over at Ginny before answering. "Yes. Like his father, the baby doesn't have the crescent moon shaped birthmark on his right hip that his grandfather had. It's Draco."


	24. Parting of the Ways

Chapter 24: Parting of the Ways

"Mr. Malfoy?" Nurse Nancy Weaver stood in the doorway of a small, private waiting room two floors below Hermione's delivery room. A small table laden with old _Witch Weeklys, Daily Prophets, _a few _Quibblers_ and other out-of-date magazines stood in the middle of the room. Beyond that, a tall man with white-blonde hair paced the width of the room. At the sound of his name, he turned. Draco showed no sign of emotion as he stepped around the table. His time in Azkaban, under the guard of the dementors - horrible creatures which suck all the happiness out of a person so that they are left to wallow in misery from the worst experiences of their life - seemed to have affected him as harshly as those who had served longer sentences. His face was paler than normal and his usually sleek hair was lank. He stared down at the fretless child bundled in cloth.

His voice was raspy from lack of use when he asked the young witch, "You are certain of the results?"

"Yes. We've had redundant tests run. The results were the same."

"Then this _is _my son?"

She nodded and carefully placed the child into his father's arms. Draco again stared down at him, unsure of what he felt. He was not proud of what he had done, in fact he was quite ashamed of himself for allowing it to happen. A day hadn't passed since that he didn't wish he had stood up to his father when Hermione had first been delivered to him in the cave, instead of just walking away. He's better than that, a better man than his father ever was. But there was nothing he could do about it now except relieve the child's mother of this horrible burden. He had not been surprised when Hermione had first contacted him after his release from Azkaban and told him that she had no desire to raise the child. The news of her pregnancy was shock enough and he knew he must take responsibility for his wrongdoing, instead of dwelling on past mistakes.

The child stirred in his arms and opened his eyes. Draco moved the blanket aside with one finger to better see him. "Hello," was all he could think of to say. They both stared at each other for a minute then, from within the blanket's folds, a small hand appeared and closed purposefully around his finger. Despite the fact that his parents had not come in close contact since his conception, and he had never heard his father's voice, the baby seemed to recognize, even at such an infantile age, that this man who held him was his father. This instinctive understanding went beyond logical reasoning.

From the instant the tiny fingers closed around his, a rush of love and a sudden realization of what it meant to be a father washed over Draco; a smile spread over his face as a single tear slid down his cheek.

Nurse Weaver waited silently in the doorway, at a loss for words as she watched the father and son pair. She couldn't help but smile, but the moment seemed tainted in her mind by the behavior of the mother. She knew by professional etiquette, however, not to ask.

She waited a few more minutes then, as politely as she could, made her presence known by clearing her throat before she spoke, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but the mother is still awaiting word on the child's name. What would you like me to tell her?"

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Please tell her for me, the name will be … Scorpius."

The nurse nodded. "I will let her know. Please, take your time and check out at the main desk when you are ready to leave." He nodded.

A few floors above, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny waited for word on the boy's name. Hermione was now lying flat on her bed, Ron still sat beside her, and Harry and Ginny stood silently in opposite corners. No one spoke or moved, they were just waiting, thinking, wondering…

Harry stood to Hermione's right, watching her. Across the past 10 plus years that he had known her, he had become quite good at being able to read her, despite her attempts to keep her deepest emotions hidden. Even more so within the year that they had spent living under the same roof, before the Malfoy's plot had tested their relationship. But watching her now he realized he might as well have been trying to read a blank wall.

He had learned growing up, however, that everything happens for a reason; his whole life, now in hindsight, was solid proof of that. Everything that had happened, beginning with Trelawney's prediction before he was even born, all led up to and prepared him for the task of killing Lord Voldemort, a task which, at the time, had required him to sacrifice his own life.

He also more recently came to understand that, despite all his magical knowledge, there are still things in this world that cannot be explained, and maybe never will be. Love and trauma. It could never be predicted nor fully explained how a person will and does react to either.

Every head turned toward the door when approaching footsteps from down the hall broke the silence. Nurse Weaver walked in a second later. Hermione leaned forward in her bed to see around Ron, who had stood up when she entered. "He says the name is to be Scorpius. That was all he told me."

"Thank you." Hermione leaned back against her pillows as the nurse left the room.

"Scorpius?" Ron snorted. "What kind of a name is that?"

Ginny glanced quickly at Hermione then shot Ron a 'shut up' look, which he either didn't notice or chose to ignore.

"He couldn't have picked a more normal name, a less evil sounding name? I mean, the kid's going to grow up with a complex with a name like that."

Ginny again glanced at Hermione, who caught her eye. Hermione gave the smallest of nods toward Harry. Ginny understood her intentions. "Well what name would you have picked?" she asked Ron in an attempt to keep him preoccupied.

"I don't know, but not Scorpius." He thought about it for a minute. "I like the name Hugo. I read it in a book somewhere once. I thought it sounded cool."

"You read a book? Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"I didn't have a choice in school."

Ginny rolled her eyes. She should have known he wouldn't have picked up a book of his own free will.

Under cover of their continuing argument, Hermione looked over at Harry, who was now watching Ginny and Ron.

"Harry."

He looked down at Hermione and stepped closer.

"I wanted to thank you, Harry, for everything you've done for me while I was pregnant and prior. I know I've been horrible to you these past months. I've taken a lot of frustration out on you that I shouldn't have. You did nothing to deserve such animosity. I'm sorry."

"There's really no need to apologize. You've been through a lot. I understand."

"That doesn't excuse how I've treated you, especially after what you went through yourself. But I do want you to know, Harry, I love you. I truly always have. Things are just … different now. More complicated." She sighed and glanced over at Ginny, but she still had Ron's attention; he hadn't noticed a thing. She turned back to Harry. "I remember reading something once in which the main character embarked on a very trying quest and had just returned home, only to realize nothing was the same. He had said, "How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep that have taken hold.*" The circumstances for us aren't quite to the same extremes as for that character, but it applies well enough nonetheless. The hurts mentioned, however, Harry, were not caused by you. Not in the least. So don't think this was your fault. It wasn't."

Harry heard clearly the pain in her voice and understood what she was really trying to tell him. And it was as hard for her to say as it was for him to hear.

She reached out and took hold of his hand, tears stinging her eyes again. "We have been great friends and then some for a long time. The bond we share is rare and very, _very _special to me, I just hope it is enough for both of us to get past this."

Harry squeezed her hand as if it were a lifeline. He had to fight hard to keep the grief from overwhelming from him. Looking down at their entwined fingers, he saw the pair of engagement rings. He gently released Hermione's hand and slid one of them off his finger. Keeping his voice as level as he could, he said, "I want you to have this. It is still yours, after all."

Hermione stared down at the small band of gold with the three little diamonds. "Harry, I couldn't poss -"

"_Please_," he pleaded. "I _want _you to hold onto it. Not to wear necessarily, just to have. As a reminder."

She smiled up at him as she took the ring. "As if I need reminding of what meaning you brought into my life when I needed it most." She slipped it on the second finger of her right hand. "Thank you."

Feeling his emotions slipping nearly beyond his control, Harry knew he must get out of the room and quickly. "I love you," he whispered. "Good-bye, Hermione."

With that, he turned from her and walked away. His abruptness stung Hermione. The tears continued to form, blurring her vision.

"Harry?" Ginny called, but he did not stop.

Harry rushing past caught Ron's attention as well and he turned, confused, as he disappeared into the hall.

"What …?" He turned to Hermione. "What just happened? What's going on?"

Hermione shook her head. The tears now threatened to fall, but she refused to blink, to let them. She took a shuddering breath. "Harry and I," she began slowly, trying to keep her voice steady. "We just … broke up."

Ron stared at her, his mouth slightly open in shock, then turned to Ginny, but she refused to meet his gaze. She had figured it would happen.

Ron walked over to Hermione. But before he had a chance to say anything, Hermione said, "I'm okay. Really, I am."

He knelt down beside her and stared straight into her face, into her eyes the best he could since she wouldn't look into his. "Regardless of what's happened in the past, Harry is still my best mate. So are you." She stared at him. "And I will always be here for you."

With those words, Hermione's final restraint dissolved.

Ginny had been standing there barely a minute. She knew there was no need for her here and left the room unnoticed as Hermione cried and held onto Ron with all she had.

She spotted Harry a short way down the hall leaning against the wall with his back to her. As she approached, she saw his shoulders rising and falling rapidly, silently. He didn't hear her and when she passed beside him, he hastily tried to mop up the tears before she turned to face him.

"Harry, are you okay?" He looked up at her, his eyes still moist with tears, but didn't respond. She sighed. "Of course you're not. Hermione told us what happened. I am so sorry."

He took a deep, calming breath. "I can't say I honestly wasn't expecting this, because I was. I just kept hoping that she may still need me."

"She does, Harry."

"No, she doesn't. She may have once, but not anymore. Ron's the one for her. She needs him now. The best thing I can do for her is to back off."

They stood there for a moment, both lost in thought. It shocked Ginny when he suddenly smiled. He stepped away from the wall, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and began walking down the hall, away from Hermione's delivery room. "It's strange, you know. The way things seem to work out. Perhaps not the way we would have preferred, but they do. And I've just come to realize that the purpose of everything that has happened has been simply to shape the kinds of people we all will one day become, and we'll all be better people as a result, though we may not be able to see or understand that now."

Ginny put her arm around his waist and smiled up at him. As sad as she felt for Hermione's situation, she knew Ron would take care of her and she couldn't help but think at the same time, guilty though it made her feel, that she would now be able to regain with Harry what they had once shared. Her feelings for him had never wavered. Things were finally returning to normal after years of disarray.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked as they stepped out into the reception area then into the star-strewn night street. "Because I'm in the mood for some scrambled eggs, bacon and toast."

(*Footnote: The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. the movie by New Line Cinema and Wingnut productions. 2003. Based on the book with the same name written by J.R.R. Tolkien. Re-published by Del Rey Books. New York. 1994.)


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